


parks & recreation

by luckee, septemberist



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Bickering, Blow Jobs, Bottom Anakin Skywalker, Dirty Talk, Fingering, First Time, Forest Ranger Anakin Skywalker, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Meet-Cute, Poet Obi-Wan Kenobi, Praise Kink, Professor Obi-Wan Kenobi, Riding, Romance, Top Obi-Wan Kenobi, Virgin Anakin Skywalker, forest twunk, not a parks & rec au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:22:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 31,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25886518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckee/pseuds/luckee, https://archiveofourown.org/users/septemberist/pseuds/septemberist
Summary: Obi-Wan left his apartment in the city with the hope that a walk in nature might help to cure his writer’s block. He didn’t expect to nearly fall off a cliff, and he certainly didn’t plan to be found by the world’s most beautiful—and infuriating—park ranger.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 100
Kudos: 625





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The fic formerly known as "forest twunk."

Anyone who claimed they actually _enjoyed_ hiking was either a masochist or a liar.

Obi-Wan had somehow managed to climb _up_ this patch of rocks, but getting _down_ it was proving even more difficult. No hikers had passed him in over an hour—deterred by the dismal weather, he supposed—so he couldn’t even watch how anyone else navigated the steep descent. With every cautious step down, his feet seemed to find the most unstable rock to land on, sending his heart pounding in that brief, adrenaline-inducing moment of uncertain balance.

He was at an impasse. He could either try to jump down the left side of the trail—about a six foot drop onto loose rocks—or skirt along the right side of the trail. That was the way he’d climbed up, but the cliff bordering the edge had seemed slightly less like certain death when he wasn’t looking down from the top.

He eyed a large rock to his right. Surely that would support his weight. He put his foot down—and discovered he was _very_ wrong. The rock wobbled under his foot and slipped away, leaving him stepping onto empty air.

Gravity yanked him down, sending him falling onto the trail, starting a tumble down toward the cliff. Panic sent him flailing, scrambling at the rocks, desperate to find purchase before he wound up careening over the edge.

By some stroke of luck his hands caught on a stable rock, jerking his descent to a halt, planting him on a brief outcropping mere feet from the edge of the cliff.

For a moment he just laid there, gasping for breath, heart pounding a drumbeat against his ribcage. 

He tried to sit up, but as soon as he shifted his left foot, he was hit with a deep, throbbing pain radiating out from his ankle. The pain made him aware that he hurt _everywhere_ —everywhere he’d slammed into rock and hard ground. His lower lip throbbed. He brought a hand to it, and his fingers came away wet with a tiny smear of blood.

Feeling more pitiful by the second, Obi-Wan half-crawled, half-dragged himself to a nearby tree. He hauled himself upright with the help of a low branch, gritting his teeth against a fresh wave of agony. Once he was balanced against the trunk, he tentatively lowered his left foot to the ground.

_“Shit!”_

So that was out of the question.

At least he was still on the trail. Obi-Wan eyed the way forward. It was, fortunately, very heavily wooded. If he was careful, he could probably transfer his grip from tree to tree, hopping to avoid putting weight on his ankle, pick his way down the path and back to his car and the city where this would all become an embarrassing story to tell over drinks—

A branch snapped somewhere close by. Obi-Wan froze. A bear or mountain lion coming to eat him? Or another hiker about to witness his mortifying predicament? He couldn't decide which was less appealing at the moment.

A tall, broad-shouldered form emerged from the trees. Obi-Wan cringed as he recognized the uniform of a park ranger. _Just what he needed._ Then, of course, the man noticed him.

“Are you okay?” called the ranger.

“Just taking a short rest, thank you!” he called back dismissively.

The ranger’s eyes tracked down to his feet. His horror was evident even from a distance. “Where are your hiking boots? Do you _want_ a twisted ankle?”

Obi-Wan grimaced, praying that he would just _go away_ and leave Obi-Wan to ruminate on his own idiocy alone.

Of course, that was when the ranger seemed to notice that Obi-Wan was favoring one leg, hovering his left foot above the ground. “You already twisted it, didn’t you?”

“It’s just a light twinge. I’ll be fine in a minute.”

The ranger approached him, taking wide strides to get down the rocky incline of the trail. He marched right up to him, joining him under the tree, peeking back at the slope behind him. “Looks like you just fell.”

At such a close distance, Obi-Wan couldn't help but notice that the ranger was quite good-looking under that wide-brimmed hat, all tanned skin and cheekbones with a mop of dark blond curls pulled back into a tie at the nape of his neck. A harsh scar stood out against his delicate features, cutting through his brow and down his cheek. Obi-Wan figured he was lucky to still have his eye. And what pretty eyes they were, a deep blue in the shade cast by the tree.

As he drank in the ranger’s appearance, the handsome face twisted into a scowl. “Hello?”

“These rocks are _extraordinarily_ dangerous. You should really fix the trail,” Obi-Wan said, a feeble attempt to both justify his fall and remind himself that, while pretty, this ranger was being far too accusing and self-righteous for his liking.

The ranger appraised him with a curious look. “Are you a tourist or something?”

“No,” Obi-Wan scoffed. “I live in the city. Why would you ask that?”

“It’s just, you have an accent. It’s...” The ranger rubbed the back of his neck. “Never mind. All city people are the same. You never come prepared for a real hike. Why are you even on this trail, anyway?”

The condescension in the ranger’s tone soured his mood even further. “This was marked as a beginner’s trail. Honestly, it’s your fault for falsely marking such a difficult trail.”

The ranger snorted. “This isn’t the beginner’s trail. We’re on Rattlesnake.”

“No, we aren’t.” Obi-Wan retrieved his phone from his pocket, trying to pull up the map, but he was met with a black screen. _Great. Completely dead._

The ranger huffed exasperatedly and pulled out a familiar pamphlet with the park service logo. There had been a plexiglass box of them at the trailhead, which Obi-Wan had eschewed in favor of his phone. He unfolded it and sidled up to Obi-Wan to point out something on the map of the park.

“We’re here. See? Rattlesnake.”

“No, we’re…” Obi-Wan squinted at the map before pointing to a spot below the ranger’s hand. “Here. I never turned onto Rattlesnake.”

“Have you never looked at a map before? You turned here,” —the ranger’s forefinger trailed down, bumping his hand out of the way to point to a fork in the main trail— “onto Rattlesnake. We’re less than a mile from the summit, here.” He tapped another spot. “This is the steepest part of the mountain, how the hell did you think you were still on the right trail?”

“The markers, the map said they were…” Blue? Red? He couldn't remember, he’d just taken a quick glance...

The ranger rolled his eyes and somehow, _infuriatingly,_ made the expression look attractive. 

“Unbelievable,” the ranger muttered. “Well, you clearly aren't capable of getting out of here on your own. Come on, my cabin isn’t too far from here.”

“I appreciate your desire to help, but I’m fine,” Obi-Wan insisted, polite but firm.

The ranger looked at him like he had grown a second head. “It would take you forever to get back to the trailhead on that foot, and it’s already getting dark. There’s no way I’m leaving you here. If we get back to my truck I can drive you down the road.”

The ranger was right; it was getting dark, the clouds above turning an ominously deep indigo, the wind picking up and bringing with it the threat of rain. He’d hiked for three hours before he’d finally given up on the difficult trail and turned around, surely it would take far longer to get back down the mountain with his ankle throbbing like this…

“Fine. I suppose I wouldn’t want to be limping around in the dark out here.”

“Obviously. Here, give me that." 

Obi-Wan reluctantly relinquished his backpack, which the ranger put on. Then he got closer and wrapped an arm around Obi-Wan's back, clearly inviting him to use his body as a crutch. After a moment’s hesitation, Obi-Wan brought an arm up around the ranger’s shoulders. The ranger was a bit taller than him, shoulders well-muscled and solid under his grip as he begrudgingly allowed the ranger to guide him away from the tree. 

Instinctively, he tried to step down on his left foot. He hissed at the hot twinge of pain and nearly stumbled, but the ranger tightened his hold on his waist, keeping him upright. Another hand came up to hold his wrist in place over the ranger’s shoulder.

“Don’t walk on it!” 

“Yes, I _know_ that,” Obi-Wan ground out between gritted teeth.

Obi-Wan was stuck leaning into the ranger’s side, hobbling along while the ranger navigated them up the rocks, telling Obi-Wan where to put his feet to avoid putting weight on his ankle as much as possible. They were touching in so many places, both of the ranger’s hands serving as warm, gently guiding points of pressure on his body.

God, he felt ridiculous. Busting his ankle on his first hike in years, needing a ranger to help him back down the mountain.

“Wait.” 

A light squeeze stopped him right before he was about to take another step. The ranger used his boot to point to a different rock than the one that Obi-Wan had been eyeing. “That one’s more stable.”

“...thank you.”

As they picked their way forward, it sank in more and more that he was completely at this man’s mercy. He decided he’d do well to establish a rapport. “I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi, by the way. What’s your name?”

The ranger looked away before responding. The tendon below his jaw stood out from the effort of supporting half of Obi-Wan’s weight. 

“Does it really matter?”

“Since you are helping me, I suppose, I thought I should thank you personally.”

“You can thank me by staying on the right trail next time. Or better yet, in the city where you belong.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed and he leaned away a bit. “Fine, then. If my being injured is such an inconvenience to you, I’m sure I can make it back down the mountain myself.”

As if on cue, a fat droplet of rain hit his neck and slid uncomfortably down the back of his shirt, swiftly followed by two more. 

“In this?” The ranger gestured at the sky with the hand that had been holding Obi-Wan’s wrist. “Don’t be an idiot.”

Obi-Wan briefly considered making a break for it. But the ranger's arm was tight around his middle, the terrain shadowed by the gathering dusk. The thought of eating dirt again, this time with an audience, was almost too humiliating to contemplate. 

Instead, as more raindrops began to soak his hair and clothes, he found himself pressing closer to the man next to him. The air had grown surprisingly chilly, and the insufferable ranger radiated heat like a furnace. For a while, they picked their way along in sullen silence, Obi-Wan suppressing shivers every few seconds.

“You wouldn’t be so cold if you’d dressed properly for today. Did you even check the forecast?”

“Of course I did,” Obi-Wan snapped. “I wasn’t planning to be out here late enough for it to get cold.”

“And yet, here you are.”

_“Regrettably.”_

After a long, miserable stretch of walking in the rain with the ground getting rapidly muddier under their feet, the ranger unexpectedly cut into the silence. “My name’s Anakin. And this is, obviously, my park that you’ve chosen to almost fall to your death in.”

“I promise you, next time I want to almost fall to my death, I’ll make sure to choose a _different_ park.” Obi-Wan scowled, barely able to contain his annoyance. Why was this ranger— _Anakin_ —even bothering to help him if he held so much contempt for him?

“That’s not the point. I don’t want you falling to your death in _any_ park.”

That was something, he supposed. 

Before he could respond, they emerged from the dense woods into a large clearing. 

“Home, sweet home.” Anakin waved a hand at a small cabin built into the hillside on cinderblock risers. A rusty, mud-spattered pickup truck was parked next to a pile of firewood. “Must seem like a shitheap to you.” 

“I was thinking it looks rather cozy, actually,” said Obi-Wan. It was true. He had lived in far smaller apartments in his grad school days. Even with darkened windows, the cabin had an inviting look, with a cheery red door and a smattering of wildflowers, still in bud, planted in front.

Anakin's eyes widened for a split second before narrowing defensively. “This isn't some cottage on Instagram. This is my life.” 

“I wasn’t... never mind.” Obi-Wan suppressed an irrationally strong surge of anger. First this stranger practically kidnapped him, now he was too unreasonable even to take a polite compliment? He couldn't wait to be back at the trailhead and out of Anakin's warm, strong hold...

But Anakin didn't seem to be steering them toward the truck. 

“What are you doing? I thought you were taking me to the trailhead.”

Anakin heaved a long-suffering sigh. “I have to take a look at your ankle before I drive you down the mountain. If it's sprained, it'll only get worse without immediate treatment.”

Obi-Wan calculated his odds of arguing his way out of it and didn't like them. He was quickly learning that Anakin was _very_ stubborn. 

“Fine. But then you’ll take me right away.”

“Can't wait!” Anakin snapped.

Slowly, they hobbled their way to the cabin. Obi-Wan gulped as they approached the front. A steep set of stairs led up to the door. 

“Here, let go of me, I’ll just—” He reached for the railing, prepared to haul himself up by the strength of his arms. As if this situation couldn't be any more embarrassing.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to be an idiot?”

Obi-Wan didn't have time to react. Vertigo sent the world spinning as Anakin reached down and scooped him up into his arms, bridal-style. A soft _oof_ of breath escaped him as he collided with Anakin's chest. 

“This is entirely unnecessary,” Obi-Wan protested weakly.

Anakin actually _chuckled_ as he shifted Obi-Wan to a better position in his arms. “You're lucky I didn't throw you over my shoulder, old man.”

“I’m not _old,”_ Obi-Wan muttered under his breath. Anakin just laughed again and began to climb the stairs, as effortlessly as if Obi-Wan weighed nothing at all. 

Obi-Wan's eyes traced the sharp line of Anakin's jaw from below. He really was quite attractive, and strong. Obi-Wan could feel hard muscle through the damp fabric of his uniform. He had no doubt that Anakin _could_ throw him over his shoulder if he wanted to. 

It was a pity about his personality. 

He’d expected to be put down once they were inside the cabin, but Anakin evidently had other plans. 

“There's a lightswitch to the left, here." Anakin grunted slightly as he adjusted his grip on Obi-Wan again. "Could you—?”

Obi-Wan fumbled around in the dark until his hand found it. Golden light illuminated the room. It _was_ cozy, not a square foot wasted: a kitchenette, living area, and bed, all arranged pleasingly and efficiently in the small space. One corner was walled off—a bathroom, probably. The shipshape organization was thrown off by the mess of papers and general clutter that covered nearly every hard surface. Wood was already arranged in a small fireplace on the opposite wall.

The comparatively warmer air seemed to throw the chill of the wet clothes plastered to his skin into even sharper relief. He shuddered violently, his teeth chattering. 

Anakin deposited him unceremoniously in one of the kitchen chairs. 

“Don’t go anywhere.”

Obi-Wan scoffed and gestured at his leg. “I’m hardly capable.”

A dresser stood against one wall. Anakin began rifling through the drawers, his arms filling up with a pile of varicolored fabric. 

“What are you doing?”

“You need dry clothes before you freeze to death. I’m guessing you didn't bring any?”

Obi-Wan grimaced and shook his head. Anakin tossed half of the pile into his lap. He separated it out into a towel, a pair of sweatpants, and a soft plaid flannel shirt. Obi-Wan blinked rapidly. Anakin clearly disliked him, could barely hide it. Why give him his own clothes when he could instead just leave him to suffer?

Anakin’s gaze flitted to his ankle and he frowned. “Do you think you can change on your own?” 

“I should be fine.” He mustered up a genuine smile in appreciation for Anakin’s concern. “Thank you, though.”

For a moment, Anakin just stared, and he braced himself for a sarcastic response. 

“...you’re welcome.” He swiftly disappeared into the bathroom, presumably to change into dry clothes himself.

 _What a puzzle of a man._ Obi-Wan mopped at his face and hair with the towel, thankful to get the cold sheen of rain off his skin. He dropped his soaked-through shirt to the floor for lack of a better option, then reached down to unbuckle his sandals, wincing as he slid the left one off his injured foot. His pants were a more difficult prospect, but he managed to remove them with a fair bit of hopping and shimmying, feeling very grateful that Anakin couldn't see him.

His shivers finally subsided as he toweled himself off, though his skin still prickled with gooseflesh, exposed to the open air of the cabin. He felt bad for the mud staining the towel as he wiped down his feet, but he had to get clean somehow. 

Putting on the sweatpants was another ordeal. He was just tying the drawstring when the bathroom door swung open, revealing Anakin clad in similar sweatpants and a _distractingly_ tight white t-shirt. 

“Hello there.” 

Anakin's eyes went wide as saucers, quickly tracking between the flannel shirt still piled on the table and Obi-Wan's bare chest. And, was he _blushing_?

“I’m sorry— I didn’t mean to— I’ll. Just.” He backed into the bathroom again and slammed the door shut. “Let me know when you're done! Please!”

His voice was muffled, but sounded a great deal higher than usual. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. _Interesting._

He took his time buttoning up the shirt. It felt very pleasant, soft and warm on his skin. He unthinkingly took a sniff of the collar, catching the faint ghost of a clean, masculine smell. Vaguely woodsy.

“I’m decent!”

Anakin emerged much more slowly this time, a faint trace of blush still visible on his cheeks. He was holding what appeared to be a first aid kit. 

“C’mon,” he muttered, lifting Obi-Wan out of his seat and helping him over to the couch. The cushions were soft, but Obi-Wan still winced slightly as he sank down. His back was probably black and blue. 

Anakin perched on the coffee table across from him. Obi-Wan realized that he’d taken his hair down. It hung to his shoulders, the lighting picking up threads of gold in the dark blond curls.

“Left foot, yeah?”

Obi-Wan nodded. Anakin’s hands were surprisingly gentle as they lifted his foot onto his lap. Still, he had to grit his teeth against a gasp of pain as Anakin prodded and rotated his swollen ankle. 

“Yup, it’s a sprain. This’ll need to be wrapped and iced.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

Anakin's fingers ghosted along the indentation left in his skin by the buckle of his sandal.

“I can’t believe you wore _Birkenstocks_ to go hiking.”

“They seemed the most practical option considering the weather," Obi-Wan said lamely over the sound of rain hitting the roof. In his defense, it had been fairly hot out earlier, one of the first warm days of the year. 

“They’re literally the opposite of practical. Rule number one of hiking, you never wear open-toed shoes. Not to mention the lack of ankle support.”

“They were a gift,” Obi-Wan defended, weakly. “And they do have an ankle strap.”

Anakin rolled his eyes. “Next time, if there is a next time, wear boots.” 

Obi-Wan sighed and let his head fall backward. “I sincerely doubt there will be.”

Anakin opened the first aid kit and pulled out a roll of ACE bandages. 

“You’ll probably want to take this to urgent care or something when you get back. I’m not an expert.” His words were belied by his confident motions as he began to firmly wrap Obi-Wan’s ankle. 

This time, Obi-Wan couldn’t hold back a whimper. 

Anakin glared at him. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Obi-Wan groused. “You’re the one manhandling me. It’s painful.”

“You wouldn’t be in pain if you had a little more regard for your own safety. Maybe this will teach you a lesson.”

But Obi-Wan noticed that Anakin used a slightly lighter hand after that. 

He didn't bother with scissors when he was finished, instead ripping the bandage with his teeth before taping it down. 

“All done. Gimme that?”

Obi-Wan handed Anakin the small throw pillow he'd indicated, which he placed on the table next to him. He lifted Obi-Wan's foot off his lap and set it down on the pillow. It was a good thing Obi-Wan was flexible. 

“Do you think you’re injured anywhere else?”

Obi-Wan took a mental inventory of his sore and battered limbs. His tongue flicked out in concentration and came away with the metallic taste of dried blood. 

“Just some bruises and a cut lip, I think.” 

Anakin nodded. “That needs to be cleaned.” 

He turned to dig around in the first aid kit again, this time retrieving a wad of cotton and a small bottle of rubbing alcohol. He dampened the cotton and leaned in closer, until Obi-Wan felt his breath lightly ghosting over his face.

“This is probably going to hurt too,” he said, and then mumbled, “Sorry.” 

Anakin brought the cotton ball up to his lip, and Obi-Wan found himself holding his breath.

Anakin’s face was schooled in concentration, impossible to ignore when it was mere inches from his own. Obi-Wan could make out every detail—the darker blue flecks in his eyes, the dark blond of his lashes, the raised edges of the scar. A strong, smooth jaw free of stubble, sharp cheekbones under skin bronzed by the sun. Plush lips, parted ever-so-slightly by a pink tongue peeking out as he dabbed at Obi-Wan’s lip with the cotton ball.

He was remarkably pretty, features surprisingly dainty considering the rough nature of his work and his surly attitude.

When Anakin met his eyes, his wide-eyed gaze reminded Obi-Wan of a startled doe.

“Why are you staring at me like that? It’s freaking me out.”

Obi-Wan smiled in the face of Anakin’s deepening scowl, unable to resist the words that came to his lips. “You’re very nice to look at.”

The cotton ball fell from Anakin’s fingers. He nearly knocked over the bottle of rubbing alcohol in his haste to pick it back up. Blush sprang back to his cheeks as Anakin willfully looked anywhere but at Obi-Wan.

“Your lip looks fine,” Anakin said, clumsily packing everything back into the first aid kit, “You won’t need stitches or anything. Just keep it clean.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re going to need to keep your ankle iced and elevated as much as possible. That’s the only way to help the swelling go down faster.”

“As soon as I’m home I’ll do just that.”

Lightning flashed, casting the cabin in stark white light. Thunder followed soon after, so loud that Obi-Wan was convinced the lightning had struck directly overhead. The rain seemed to immediately intensify, splattering against the windows in heavy droplets.

“The road’s going to be all mud,” Anakin sighed. “I can’t drive in this.”

“I need to get home tonight.” The prospect of being stranded out here was more than a little unsavory. Sure, it was a Saturday, but he was supposed to eat lunch with Windu tomorrow... 

“Yeah, well, I’m telling you that’s not going to happen.”

“We can try. Maybe the road won’t be as bad as you’re assuming it is.”

Anakin bristled. Apparently, he’d struck a chord. “Are you saying I don’t know my own park?”

“I wasn’t insinuating anything—”

“Listen, if you want to walk out into that, be my guest. I won’t stop you. But I’m not driving you down to the trailhead in this storm.”

Obi-Wan slumped back into the couch. More lightning flashed, followed by deep rumbling thunder. “Do you have any idea when the storm’s supposed to let up?”

“Supposed to rain most of the night.”

“Great,” Obi-Wan sighed heavily. “That means I’m stuck here until morning.”

Something cold washed over Anakin’s face, turning his blue eyes icy. 

Obi-Wan felt a pang in his chest, only belatedly realizing just how ungrateful he sounded. “That was a rude thing to say. Thank you for your help, Anakin. I don’t even want to imagine being out in this storm right now.”

Anakin shrugged dismissively, although his expression thawed. “Yeah, well. It’s my job to keep hikers safe. Especially the ones who have no idea what they’re doing.”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to argue but decided against it. Anakin, unfortunately, had a point.

“Well,” Anakin said, hands on his knees as he stood up from the table. “I’m going to make dinner.” He took the first aid kit back to the bathroom, scooping up Obi-Wan’s wet clothes on the way, and then flipped on the kitchen light.

Obi-Wan’s first instinct was to follow him, but reality hit like a spoonful of bitter medicine. _Right._ He wasn’t going to be walking around easily anytime soon.

The sounds of pots clanking in the kitchenette as Anakin started to work on dinner made him feel increasingly restless. “Can I help with anything?”

Anakin turned back with a confused look on his face. “You can’t exactly stand right now.”

“No, but I can still help.” Obi-Wan eased his bad ankle off the pillow and started to stand.

Anakin crossed the room in a flash and caught Obi-Wan under the arms as he pitched forward.

“What are you doing?” he hissed.

“I can lean against the counter.”

“You need to keep your ankle elevated. Did you listen to a word I said?”

“I can’t just sit around while you cook for me,” he protested. “You’ve already done more than enough.”

“Hmph.” Anakin clearly wasn’t happy about it, but he grabbed hold of his waist and started to guide him, step by hobbling step, back over to the kitchen table. The dining set was a solid oak, unpolished but well-sanded, the table’s surface cluttered with maps and pamphlets and other loose papers that Anakin quickly piled up into a haphazard stack.

Then he retrieved the pillow, placing it on the other kitchen chair and gently guiding Obi-Wan’s foot on top.

“You should ice it while you sit here.” Before Obi-Wan could even respond, Anakin was already rummaging through the freezer. 

“Alright,” he said wearily. 

Anakin carefully bent the ice pack to the approximate shape of his ankle before applying it. Obi-Wan hissed a little at the cold, but immediately some of the throbbing pain began to recede. 

“Is that comfortable?”

“Yes, thank you,” Obi-Wan said. “Now what can I help with?”

Anakin brought over a cutting board and a small assortment of vegetables for him to chop. Obi-Wan was pleasantly surprised—he’d expected dinner to consist of dried meat and canned beans at best. But Anakin had already turned on the gas stove, and was dropping what looked to be cubes of sirloin into a cast iron pot, where they sizzled enticingly. 

After Obi-Wan was done, Anakin surveyed the finished vegetables with a skeptical eye. 

“Good job,” he finally admitted. “Thanks.”

“Anything else I can do?” Obi-Wan asked as Anakin added the vegetables to the pot and stirred the whole lot together. 

“No, it’ll just be a bit longer.” Anakin threw in some flour, dried herbs, and spices, then opened a can of broth and poured that in as well. “That needs to simmer for a few.”

He turned down the flame and covered the pot. Obi-Wan’s stomach growled. The wisps of savory-smelling steam escaping from the lid were more than a little appealing.

While they waited for their meal to finish, Anakin walked over to the fireplace, lighting a few matches and adding logs until he’d built up a roaring fire. Obi-Wan was grateful for its warmth, gradually spreading throughout the cabin.

Finally, Anakin turned off the heat and ladled stew into two ceramic bowls, setting one on the table. He leaned up against the counter with his own bowl in hand, giving no indication that he planned to join him at the table.

“I’m happy to move my foot so you can sit.” Obi-Wan leaned forward to lift the ice pack off his ankle.

“Stop that.” Anakin set his bowl down just so he could bat Obi-Wan’s hand away. “How many times do I have to tell you, we’re keeping it elevated so the swelling goes down.”

“I’m not going to eat with you standing up.”

“Fine,” Anakin huffed. “I’ll sit.”

Obi-Wan jumped, not expecting Anakin to lift his foot up so suddenly, casting the pillow aside and sliding onto the chair. Anakin resettled Obi-Wan's foot on his thigh, angling himself so Obi-Wan could be comfortable. 

He couldn’t help but think it was a rather intimate position for two strangers, especially as Anakin leaned forward to take a bite and his belly brushed up against his foot.

Obi-Wan thought he might’ve detected a hint of pink on the apples of Anakin’s cheeks as he brought his spoon to his lips. It was simple but quite tasty, exactly the hearty meal he needed after his tribulation. 

“Why were you even out hiking today?” Anakin asked him between spoonfuls of stew. “You obviously don’t do it very often.”

Obi-Wan stiffened at the question. Why _was_ he out hiking today? It had been a ridiculous endeavor from the beginning.

“I’m a writer. A poet, specifically. A friend thought the beauty of nature might inspire me.” Obi-Wan gave a light, bitter huff of a laugh. “All it’s done is convince me I don’t want to have anything to do with nature.”

“That fall was your fault,” Anakin said, pointing the end of his spoon accusingly in his direction. “You have to abide by nature’s rules out here, which you definitely didn’t do.”

“Nature doesn’t have any rules. Nature is uncaring of the laws of man.”

“Of course you’d say that, you almost fell off a cliff today. Nature _does_ have rules, you just haven’t bothered to learn them.”

Obi-Wan’s lips twitched, amused by Anakin’s matter-of-fact tone. “I suppose you would be able to teach me all about nature’s elusive rules.”

Anakin’s smirk matched his own. “I mean, yeah. I am a park ranger.”

“What drew you to the park service? It seems rather lonely out here.” He studied Anakin’s face, struck again by just how _pretty_ the young man was, especially with his lips curved in playful arrogance. “Unless, of course, you share this cabin?”

Anakin shook his head. “No, it’s just me. There’s another guy during the peak months, but he’s got his own cabin on the other side. And then there’s the service crew, but they only come out when there’s something I can’t do by myself.”

“You seem like you’re plenty capable of handling most issues out here on your own.”

Anakin ducked his head, suddenly very interested in the contents of his bowl. “I’ve been doing this for a while.”

“You must like it out here.”

“It’s… it’s really peaceful, most of the time. Not much crime happens. It’s mostly just a lot of picking up people’s litter. Which _is_ a crime, but, you know what I mean.”

“Did you always want to be a forest ranger? Or did you come to it later?”

Anakin's jaw hardened. “It’s what I am. I don't see why that’s important.”

Obi-Wan blinked, confused as to what Anakin had found so offensive in the simple question. He tried a different tack. 

“Well, you seem to enjoy it now. Is there a particular part of the job that’s your favorite, maybe?” 

Anakin's posture instantly loosened. Obi-Wan felt himself relax, too, relieved that this seemed to be safer ground.

“I mean, I like almost everything about my job. The best part is going on patrols, especially during the off season when there aren’t too many people on the trails. Springtime’s really nice, there’s so many babies. _Especially_ rabbits…”

Obi-Wan listened attentively while Anakin talked about the park. Anakin perked up at every question, infinitely more friendly and animated than he’d been on the trail. Obi-Wan found he liked to see Anakin’s face lit up like this. It made it difficult to see the surly man from earlier that day when he looked at him.

Now having eaten his first proper meal since morning, Obi-Wan felt some of his irritation with Anakin and the whole situation start to dissipate. Exhaustion crept in, taking its place, each and every one of his bruises aching with the need for rest.

“Can I help you clean up?”

“Nope,” said Anakin, popping the _p._ “It’s back to the couch for you.”

Anakin helped him to the bathroom and told him where to find a spare toothbrush so he could have some semblance of a nighttime routine. Obi-Wan managed to collect his glasses case and a book from his backpack on his mandated limp back to the couch, Anakin supporting him with a strong arm around his waist in a way that was becoming familiar. The book was a necessity—he needed _something_ to occupy his mind if he wasn’t allowed to help clean the kitchenette.

Fire illuminated the room in a warm amber glow, flickering on the walls in a staccato rhythm as they co-existed in the pleasant quiet of the cabin. Much of the throbbing pain in his ankle had abated, and yet he still found himself struggling to concentrate on the page, distracted by biceps straining against white cotton as Anakin scrubbed dishes at the sink.

Obi-Wan looked up from his book at the sound of a soft thud. Anakin had brought one of the kitchen chairs over so he could sit in front of the fireplace. His hands held a small block of wood and a knife.

“What’s that for?”

Anakin almost seemed startled by his voice. Perhaps he had momentarily forgotten he had a guest. “It’s nothing.”

“Are you whittling something?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Look, there isn’t much to do out here.” Anakin said it to the fire, short and gruff.

“What’s it going to be?” Obi-Wan asked, softening his voice.

Anakin glanced up at him then, hand ceasing its fidgeting on the knife. “I haven’t decided yet. Some kind of animal.”

They fell into an easy silence. Anakin whittled away, wood shavings steadily drifting to the floor, while Obi-Wan read, seeking solace and comfort in the well-worn and yellowed pages.

Lightning and thunder struck simultaneously, the loudest clap of thunder yet. Obi-Wan flinched in instinct.

Of course, Anakin noticed.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little thunder.”

“Of course I’m not scared,” Obi-Wan said coolly. “But that was _loud.”_

Anakin blew dust off of his carving. “You don’t have to lie. It’s normal to be frightened, up on the mountain on a night like this. _Anything_ could happen.” He smirked up at Obi-Wan and waggled his eyebrows. 

Obi-Wan crossed his arms. “I’m certain this cabin is perfectly safe.” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure.” Anakin dropped his whittling and swiveled to face him. “Have you ever heard the story... of the _Wolfman of Rattlesnake Mountain?”_

“Can’t say I have, no. But I’m intrigued.” He marked his place and put his book down, then folded his reading glasses and set them on top. “Why don’t you tell it, if you’d like?”

Anakin grinned and propped his chin on his hands, elbows to knees. “It’s not a story that hikers would tell you. It’s a park service legend. So don’t go blabbing it around, okay?” 

Obi-Wan mimed a locking and throwing away the key motion over his mouth. “My lips are sealed.” 

“Here we go.” Anakin’s voice dropped down to an ominous register. Coupled with the dancing sparks of the fire reflected in his eyes and the sound of rain lashing against the windows, it made for a reasonably spooky effect. 

“A long time ago, before there was a state park or even any trails, there was an explorer who was the first man to ever climb Rattlesnake Mountain. It wasn’t even called that, yet. It didn’t have a name. The mountain was said to be cursed, and the locals begged him not to go, warning that he would pay a _dire_ price for disturbing the curse.” 

“If no one had ever climbed the mountain, how did they know it was cursed?” Obi-Wan interrupted. 

Anakin’s voice shot back up to its usual indignant pitch. “They just did, okay? Shut up and let me tell the story.” 

“Sorry,” Obi-Wan said unrepentantly. 

“So,” Anakin’s voice dropped again, slipping into the tale with the ease of long practice, “The mountain was cursed. But the explorer still insisted. Some say that he was searching for a cure for his son, who was deathly sick. Others think he was just so in love with the natural beauty up here that he _had_ to see it up close. But whatever the reason, the point is the explorer ignored all the warnings and set out to climb Rattlesnake. 

“He started when the sun was high up in the sky, and the going was easy. But as he climbed higher, he got turned around and started walking in circles, and before he knew it the sun was setting and he couldn’t find his way back down. So he lit a torch and sat back against a tree to wait out the night.” 

Anakin shot Obi-Wan a wicked look from beneath his eyelashes. 

“ _That,”_ he pointed for emphasis, “was the night of the full moon. Before long, the explorer heard a wolf howl from far away. And then, closer. And _then,_ he saw yellow eyes reflecting the torchlight as something prowled into the clearing.”

Despite himself, Obi-Wan found himself holding his breath.

“It was an _enormous_ black wolf. Its shoulder was as high as a normal man’s _head._ And it was stalking towards the explorer. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to run, so he took out his knife—”

“The explorer had a knife? You didn’t mention that.” 

Anakin sighed indignantly. “Of course he had a knife. _He_ was an experienced hiker. He probably wore boots, too. _Anyway.”_ He glared at Obi-Wan for a few seconds, as if daring him to interrupt again. 

Obi-Wan kept his lips sealed.

“The wolf stalked towards the explorer, and he took out his knife. All of a sudden, the wolf pounced!” Anakin lunged forward, making a clawing motion with his hands. 

“The explorer was a brave fighter, and he plunged his knife straight into the wolf’s heart. But it was too late. The wolf fell down dead, but it had bitten the explorer on the arm. Like I said, it was a full moon. Soon, the explorer fell down on the ground. He began to shiver, and his skin got so hot that some say he cried out like he was being burned alive. Soon, he had transformed into a wolf just like the one who had bit him. The curse... was passed on.” 

Anakin sat back, looking like a cat who had got the cream. “No one ever saw the explorer again. Some say the story ends there. Other people eventually mapped out the mountain, and then the parks service came in and marked the trails to be the way they are today. But.” 

He leaned forward again and his voice went the lowest it had yet, nearly a whisper. 

“Some still say that there is danger on Rattlesnake Mountain every full moon. _Stupid_ hikers, who don’t know what they’re doing, come here, and then they stray from the trail where they’re supposed to be. And if they aren’t off the mountain by the time the moon is high, then,” Anakin snapped his fingers, “They’re gone, just like that, never to be seen again. Taken by the wolfman.” 

Anakin yawned and stretched before staring innocently out the window. “Hey...” he mused. “Which night is it, again? I think it might be a full moon.” 

_Ka-crash!_ Lightning crackled and thunder rumbled with perfect timing. Obi-Wan jumped, and then laughed out loud, clapping his hands. Despite himself, he’d been completely caught up in Anakin’s tale, hanging on every word by the end. 

“That’s the story of the Wolfman of Rattlesnake Mountain.” Anakin leaned back in his chair and jerked his head to toss the hair from his eyes. “What do you think?” 

His voice betrayed a tad more concern for Obi-Wan’s opinion than he probably intended. 

“Excellent story,” Obi-Wan praised. “I mean it. Very chilling.” 

Anakin looked away. “I didn’t make it up or anything.” 

“But you told it very beautifully. I’m impressed.” 

“Oh.” Anakin’s eyes were fixed on a worn spot at the knee of his sweatpants, which he picked at. “Thanks, I guess.” 

“I did have one question, though.” 

Anakin perked up. “Shoot.” 

“What happens to all the people who disappear, when the wolfman takes them?” 

“I told you, no one knows.” Anakin frowned. “Eaten, probably. That would make the most sense.” 

“Not necessarily.” Obi-Wan scratched his beard. “Did anyone ever find a body?” 

“What do you think _disappeared never to be seen again_ means? I thought you were supposed to be a writer.” Anakin rolled his eyes. 

“Poet, actually, but that’s besides the point. All I’m saying is, if no bodies were found, who’s to say that the wolf hurt them at all? He probably got lonely, up here on the mountain all by himself.” Obi-Wan kept his voice soft. “Maybe he just needed some company.”

Anakin shook his head. “Why would he need friends? He’s a wolf. A lone wolf. And besides, if he wasn’t eating them, then the story wouldn’t be scary. That’s the whole point.” 

Obi-Wan looked at Anakin for a long moment, studying his profile carved out in shadow by the flickering firelight. 

“I don’t think the story is scary,” he murmured. “I think it’s sad.” 

Anakin snorted. “Sure. Yeah. Whatever. Weirdo.” He scooped up his whittling from the floor and resumed his work. “Really don’t get how you’re a writer,” he muttered. “You didn’t understand the story at all.”

Sensing that the conversation was over, Obi-Wan slid his glasses back on and resumed his reading. Maybe a half hour passed before Anakin set his whittling aside again and yawned loudly. 

“It’s getting kinda late.”

“It is.” Obi-Wan set his book aside and took his glasses off, leaning forward to set them on the coffee table. “I wouldn’t mind trying to get some rest, if that’s alright with you.” He shifted on the couch to get more comfortable, prepared to settle in for a night of fitful sleep. 

He had the strange, fleeting thought that he could be the first person other than Anakin to sleep in this cabin.

“You’re not sleeping there.” Anakin was standing in front of him, arms crossed over his chest. He looked about as intimidating as a puppy.

“I’m already an uninvited guest in your home. I’m not taking your bed as well.”

“Okay, but you’re injured. _I’m_ taking the couch.”

“I’m perfectly fine with taking the— hey!”

His argument was cut off as Anakin picked him up, _again,_ all swift, effortless strength as he carried him across the short distance and set him down on the bed, far more gently than he’d dropped him the last time.

Anakin fussed for a minute with the pillows, unfolding the bundled-up blanket and spreading it out on top of him. It was all completely unnecessary and rather embarrassing, but Obi-Wan really didn’t have the energy to fight it right now.

“I’m sorry it’s not the best mattress—”

“It’s fine,” Obi-Wan assured him. “Really. Thank you for offering me the bed.”

Anakin still seemed a bit unsure, but he nodded in acknowledgement and started to head back to the couch.

“Oh, Anakin.”

He twisted back around, eyes bright even in the soft amber light. “Yeah?”

“Could you please get me my notebook from my backpack? It’s a brown moleskine.”

Anakin walked over to his bag without complaint. As soon as he started looking around inside his voice nearly cracked with dismay. “You didn’t even bring any food!”

“I brought a protein bar,” Obi-Wan corrected him. A weak defense even to his own ears.

Anakin scrunched up his face as he pulled out the crinkled wrapper. “One protein bar isn’t enough. At least you didn’t litter, I guess.”

Obi-Wan frowned at him from the bed, helpless to do anything as Anakin continued rifling through his bag. “My notebook can’t be that hard to find.”

Anakin flagrantly ignored him in favor of pulling out a bottle of cologne.

“Really?! Where’s your sunscreen?” 

“The forecast was cloudy—”

“You can still get burnt through the clouds! God, it’s like you’ve never even been outside.” Anakin was so incredulous he sounded like Obi-Wan had personally offended him. “Three books and not a single bandaid in this entire backpack...”

“Listen, I’ve learned my lesson.” He only said it to appease Anakin so he’d stop his indignant tirade. “Are you happy now?”

“No. This level of under-preparation should be a crime. Are you this unprepared for everything?”

Obi-Wan smirked, unable to help himself. “I actually find preparation quite important, for certain activities.”

Anakin’s head whipped up at that. “Wh— you—”

“You’re right,” Obi-Wan continued, sobering his expression and saving the poor thing from his floundering, “I wasn’t in the right headspace to pack for a hike and I shouldn’t have come out to the mountains today.”

“At least not alone,” Anakin said, still blushing. He finally pulled out Obi-Wan’s notebook and was instantly, _rudely,_ flipping through it. 

“Whoa, there’s a lot in here. How long have you been writing in this?”

“A few years.” Obi-Wan sighed, resigning himself to Anakin’s snooping. “I told you, I'm a poet.”

“Wow.” Anakin's eyes widened as he turned more and more pages. Abruptly, he stopped on a particular page. Obi-Wan could just make out the corner of a colored pencil sketch on the curled paper. A lock of platinum-blonde hair. 

“Wait, who's this? I didn't know you could draw, too.” Anakin traced his fingers over the paper.

“No one,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “Just an old friend.”

“Oh. It’s nice.” Anakin’s voice was small. He continued paging in silence until he reached the last poem, about two-thirds of the way through the book. 

“June thirteenth?” Anakin read the date in the corner, sounding confused. “But that's almost a year ago. Do you have another notebook or something?”

Obi-Wan looked down and fiddled with the end of his flannel sleeve. “Ah, no. I’m afraid I’ve been struggling with a bit of writer’s block lately.” _An enormous understatement, he hadn’t written a word in months, what kind of poet even..._

He braced himself for judgement, but Anakin just smiled at him and snapped the notebook shut. 

“You should write a poem about trail safety. Maybe then you’ll remember to bring sunscreen next time.” 

He was clearly teasing. Obi-Wan laughed, half in relief and half because of just how annoyingly, _adorably_ passionate Anakin was about hiking etiquette. 

“Thank you. I’ll be sure to do that.”

Anakin handed him the notebook and went to curl up on the couch, pulling a throw over himself and shutting his eyes. Obi-Wan stared at the blank page in his notebook for a long time, dim firelight the only illumination. He was sure Anakin must have drifted off, so it surprised him when he spoke.

“Obi-Wan?” he mumbled sleepily. 

“What is it?”

“Just want’d’t’say... sorry about before.” 

Obi-Wan was confused. “What do you mean? You saved me.” 

“For saying all that stuff about city people, ‘rwhatever. You’re...” he yawned loudly, “You’re okay.” 

Obi-Wan considered that for a moment. “Thank you, Anakin,” he said softly. “You’re not so bad yourself.” 

The only answer was a soft snore. Anakin had fallen asleep.

Obi-Wan lay awake a while longer, though he abandoned his notebook on the bedside table. He was so far out of his comfort zone, so far out of his routine—hell, he was sleeping in a cabin in the middle of the woods with an absolute stranger. But, perhaps foolishly, he wasn’t _worried,_ so much as he was simply bewildered by the day’s unexpected turn of events.

After a while, the soft crackling of the dying embers was enough to lull him into blackness.

* * *

Obi-Wan opened his eyes to the dim, gray light of early morning. He blinked lazily, taking in the soft pink bleeding in around the edge of sky that was visible through the window. He blinked again and his eyes caught on the couch, taking in Anakin’s sleeping form. 

Anakin must have writhed and kicked off the blanket during the night—it lay crumpled, tangled around his feet. But now he looked incredibly peaceful, his features free of the etching of tension they carried while he was awake. He slept with his back arched, arms thrown up over his head. His t-shirt had ridden up to expose a tiny sliver of toned belly, where a downy trail of hair disappeared into the waist of his sweatpants. 

Obi-Wan’s mouth felt incredibly dry. 

As he watched, the first shaft of sunlight poured into the room, illuminating Anakin’s face. It glowed over his golden skin, his pink, slightly parted lips; it threw shadows from his long eyelashes across the slant of his cheekbones.

It felt strangely as though someone was squeezing the back of his throat. As though he bore witness to an enchantment that any noise, any sudden movement would shatter. Without sitting up or turning, he reached out an arm to grope at the nightstand for his notebook and pen. His fingers tingled with potentiality in that familiar way he had almost thought lost to him. 

Obi-Wan flipped open the notebook, searching for a blank page... and it fell open to the sketch. Pale blue eyes stared at him, haughty, accusing. 

His stomach clenched. He stared for a long moment, until he realized a cloud was sliding in front of the sun. He looked back just in time to watch Anakin grumble and stir in his sleep, turning over to press his face into the couch cushions. 

The spell was broken. 

Obi-Wan stared at the rafters for a long time before he fell back to sleep.

He woke for the second time that morning to a faint _tap... tap... tap._

He discovered the source of the noise by looking out the window. A hummingbird was flitting around a feeder that Anakin must have hung from the top of the window frame. Every time the little green bird darted to a new section of the feeder it clanked against the window pane.

He sat up and stretched, a myriad of aches and twinges firing up with the movement. He’d never been more grateful to have slept in a bed instead of on a couch. 

Sitting up afforded him a view of the clearing through the window, revealing the location of his unwitting host.

He was alone in the quiet of the cabin because Anakin was outside, standing over a wide tree stump with an axe in hand. He’d stripped off the white t-shirt in favor of a bare chest, jeans tucked into muddy boots and riding low on narrow hips.

He’d already known Anakin was quite pretty, but to see him with his arms flexed above his head, broad shoulders tapering down to a defined waist, muscles jumping under his skin as he swung the axe down to split another log in half, had him _breathless_ with attraction.

Anakin was gorgeous, a vision of youthful masculinity. All the more beautiful because he was in his element, confident in his own strength, surrounded by the woods he knew so well.

Obi-Wan raked his gaze appreciatively over every inch of skin exposed to him, flushed pink from exertion. Beads of sweat glistened along Anakin’s collarbone and trailed down his sternum. Watching him work didn’t do any harm—Anakin was focused on his task, one perfectly calculated swing after another, until he’d amassed a sizable pile of firewood.

The captivating sight was almost enough to make him wish he didn’t have to leave today.

Soon after he'd refreshed himself in the bathroom, Anakin entered the cabin, dabbing sweat from his face with the t-shirt that he’d still failed to put on. “Good morning,” he said with a grin, noticing Obi-Wan was awake, “You sure like to sleep in.”

“Well, we can’t all be bare-chested and chopping wood as soon as the sun rises.”

Anakin fiddled with the wadded-up t-shirt in his hands. “Well uh— we— I needed more firewood. Everything that was outside got soaked through last night.”

“You did it very competently. I’m impressed by the way you take care of yourself out here.” 

Anakin was wringing the t-shirt so hard that Obi-Wan worried it might rip. “Yeah, well I— I have to. It's my job. Um, how’s your ankle feeling?”

“Better,” Obi-Wan said honestly. “Still throbbing a bit, and I don’t think I could walk on it, but the worst of the pain is gone.”

“Don’t you dare try to walk on it yet.” Anakin’s eyes narrowed almost accusingly.

A fond smile threatened to stretch his lips. Perhaps it was because Anakin was still shirtless and gorgeously flushed, but his fretting had become more endearing than tiresome. “I’m not planning to, not if I can help it.”

“Good,” Anakin nodded, adorably somber.

Obi-Wan rolled his neck, thoughts shifting to all of the scattered belongings that he needed to gather up from around Anakin’s cabin. “It’s a good thing the rain let up before morning. I’ll just need a few minutes, and then I’ll be ready to head out.”

Anakin’s face twisted into a grimace. “About that.”

His heart skipped a beat. “What’s wrong?”

“I went down to check the road about an hour ago. A big chunk of it’s completely flooded.”

“Surely your vehicle is designed to weather stuff like that.”

That was apparently funny enough to garner a chuckle. “My old pickup would die on me the second I tried to gun it through the water. We’re going to have to wait for it to drain out.”

“And how long will that take?”

“Should probably be good by tomorrow morning, as long as it doesn’t rain too hard again.”

“Can’t you…” Obi-Wan waved his hands around aimlessly. “Do something? I have work tomorrow.”

“Work? I thought you said you were a poet.”

Obi-Wan snorted. “If only that paid the bills. No, I’m a professor of English Literature by day. And I have papers to grade for tomorrow, papers which are in my apartment.”

Anakin shot him an unamused look. “It doesn’t matter where you work. I’m not a magical guardian of the forest, I can’t just un-flood the road.”

“We could go down the hiking trail.”

Anakin balked. “No way. You shouldn’t be putting weight on that ankle for a few days at minimum. That is, if you ever want to be able to hike again without your ankle acting up.”

“I’m not in any rush to go hiking again right now.” But he begrudgingly accepted that Anakin was right—the prospect of hiking down a mountain with his ankle still throbbing like this didn’t exactly sound pleasant. 

He supposed he was stuck here again. At least for one more day. 

“I’m gonna grab a shower and then I’ll get us some breakfast.” Anakin slung his t-shirt over his shoulder and headed into the bathroom. Obi-Wan's eyes caught on the place where the groove of his spine disappeared under his jeans. 

Well. Maybe this wasn’t the worst way to spend his Sunday.

However, Obi-Wan had to officially accept that he wasn’t going to make his lunch plans. 

He checked his phone for the first time since it had recharged overnight—no notifications, which wasn’t _unheard_ of, but it was a little suspicious. He typed out an apology text and sent it to Windu.

After a minute, a notification popped up. _Message Not Delivered._

He tried a few more times, but based on the lack of bars at the top of the screen, none of his texts were going to get through.

He sighed. Windu would hold a grudge about being stood up for a few days at least, which was really the last thing he needed right now.

A few minutes later, Anakin emerged from the bathroom, sporting wet hair and yet another white t-shirt. His skin obviously hadn’t been completely dry yet when he put it on, based on the very clingy patches of damp fabric. Obi-Wan had to stare out the window for a second to calm himself down. He knew from the flannel he had on that Anakin owned clothing that wasn't... _like that._ Why he seemed so disinclined to wear anything other than skin-tight t-shirts was a mystery. 

“Alright. Time to get up, old man.” 

Obi-Wan wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed when Anakin simply took his arm to help him to the kitchen table, rather than picking him up again. He soon found himself situated with his foot on the chair and another ice pack on his ankle while Anakin looked through the cabinets for breakfast.

“What kind of cereal do you want? I have Corn Pops, Cheerios, granola, Lucky Charms—”

“Lucky Charms?” Obi-Wan smirked. 

“What?” Anakin crossed his arms. “They’re good.”

“Granola is just fine for me, thank you.” Obi-Wan resisted the urge to tease further. He was quite enjoying this new, less-grumpy version of his host, and would prefer to keep him around for as long as possible. 

Anakin poured granola for Obi-Wan and Lucky Charms for himself, all the while eying him as if daring him to say something about it. He set the bowls down and then placed Obi-Wan's foot back into his lap without a word. 

They ate in companionable silence for a while. At one point, Obi-Wan's foot started cramping up. Naturally, he flexed the arch, pressing his toes into the meat of Anakin's inner thigh. And no, he certainly didn't enjoy watching Anakin spit a mouthful of milk back into his spoon more than he should.

His bowl was down to the dregs when he remembered his little reception problem. 

“Do you ever get service out here?”

“What do you mean?” Anakin said around a mouthful of sugary cereal.

“I’m trying to send a text and it doesn’t seem to be going through.”

“Oh yeah, that’s a problem. I’ll fix that for you.”

“Fix that—?” 

Anakin had already moved Obi-Wan’s foot from his lap, leaving him with the hard, unyielding wood of the chair under it instead of Anakin’s thigh. He grabbed Obi-Wan’s phone on his way out the door.

He sat there, baffled, until he heard a loud thud come from somewhere above. _What was Anakin—_

Obi-Wan got up and half-hopped, half-hobbled over to the landing as fast as he could. The dewy morning air felt refreshing on his skin, but he hardly noticed, because all of his attention was on Anakin, who was lying on his stomach on the roof of the cabin, holding Obi-Wan's phone in the air. 

Obi-Wan’s mouth opened and shut of its own accord. Apparently, this ranger had a death wish. “What are you doing?! You’re going to get yourself hurt!” 

“Nah, I'm fine, I do this all the time!” Anakin shouted down to him. “You shouldn’t be on that foot, though.”

“A sprained ankle can't kill you. Falling and breaking your neck, however…”

“I said I’m fine!” Anakin’s tone turned a little sheepish as he peered down at Obi-Wan. “It’s good that you came out, actually. I forgot to ask for your passcode.” 

Obi-Wan sighed, reluctant to put himself at the mercy of Anakin's nosiness again. But he really needed that text sent. “It’s seven-two-three-two.”

“Great, thanks!” Anakin unlocked the phone, tapped around for a minute, and then began to wave it in the air. Obi-Wan sucked in a nervous breath while he watched Anakin shimmy up even higher on the roof. He was about to tell him to forget about it entirely when he heard the _whoosh_ of a text sending. 

“Got it!” Before Obi-Wan could blink, Anakin slid down the roof and landed effortlessly, both feet planted on the landing right in front of him, already holding out his phone to him.

Obi-Wan took it, resolving to change the passcode as soon as possible. 

“Thank you. Really. That was immensely helpful of you.”

Anakin blushed and ducked his head, busying himself for a moment with brushing pine needles off the front of his shirt. 

“What did you need to text someone for, anyway?” Anakin mumbled, still looking away from Obi-Wan as he reached out to help him back into the cabin. 

“I just had to cancel lunch with my head of department. Certainly nothing worth risking your life over.”

Anakin frowned as he helped Obi-Wan prop up his leg on the coffee table. “That sounds important. I really am sorry that you're still stuck here with me. I would bring you back if I could, I promise.”

Obi-Wan gave a soft laugh and reached out to pat Anakin’s hand, a brief, friendly touch. “To be honest, I appreciate the excuse. I wanted to get away from the city, so I might as well make the best of being out here with you, right?”

“Oh.” Anakin sounded a little awed. Then his face crumpled. “Um. I actually have to go for a little while. I guess I’m technically off today, but I’m going to walk around the area and make sure the storm didn't do any major damage. I would offer to show you around the park, but, y’know…”

“Some other time, maybe.” The words fell from his lips easily and he found he actually meant them. _Didn't he swear off hiking less than a day ago?_ His brow creased as a thought occurred to him. “Do you usually work on your days off?”

“Nature doesn't take breaks," Anakin said with a shrug.

“Right, but I mean—don't you have people to visit? Friends or family, in the city?”

Anakin wrapped his arms around himself, giving another little shrug. “I like it better up here.”

Obi-Wan sensed this wasn’t a topic he should push. He went for a safer tack. “It’s a very beautiful park. I did enjoy it before it started trying to kill me.”

He was satisfied to see Anakin's defensive posture loosen and a shy smile bloom across his face. “You should summit Rattlesnake when you're healed up. The view is something else.”

“Should I be worried about the wolfman?” Obi-Wan teased. 

“That’s only on the full moon, remember? It’s like you didn’t even listen to the story.”

Obi-Wan laughed. “Well, in any case, I assume there’s more safety in numbers... I hope you’ll show me sometime, Anakin.” 

He _truly_ enjoyed seeing his ranger blush _far too much._

Twenty minutes later, Anakin was out the door, after many reassurances that Obi-Wan would be fine on his own and wouldn’t do anything reckless in Anakin’s absence. As the sound of his footsteps disappeared into the woods, Obi-Wan realized that he had the run of the cabin. Anakin had set him up with all the books he had brought as well as his moleskine, but he found himself far more interested in learning more about his host. 

He looked around the room, for the first time taking in all the details without fear of seeming intrusive. He was surprised to find very little of the personal amidst all the clutter. Almost everything in sight seemed to be related to Anakin’s work, the walls plastered in informational posters rather than art or photographs.

That couldn’t be it. Anakin had to have private possessions somewhere. Obi-Wan curiously tugged open the drawer underneath the coffee table. Inside he found even more papers, and on top, a battered spiral notebook. On impulse, he picked it up and flipped through it, finding pages and pages of well-organized notes written in a paradoxically untidy scrawl. 

Each page catalogued Anakin's observations of the local flora and fauna with a scientist's precision and delicacy. They were quite detailed, and it dawned on Obi-Wan that such things could hardly be required for Anakin's duties as a ranger. It must be how he spent his spare time. More perusal revealed several competent, intricate sketches to go along with the notes—a wildflower just coming into bloom, a pine tree half-burnt and twisted by a lightning strike, a fawn curled asleep in a patch of grass with _Bambi_ scribbled underneath.

He had to chuckle at that last one. 

As he turned the page, something fluttered out of the notebook and into his lap, some scrap of paper. Obi-Wan turned it over and drew in a breath. 

It was a photo, the first personal photo he had seen in the cabin. And yes, that was definitely Anakin, though a younger version, maybe even a teenager, sporting a short haircut that shone a golden blond, brighter than its current shade. He had one arm thrown around the shoulders of an older woman with curly brown hair. Her face captured a moment of pure joy, laughing and hugging him back. 

But by far the most striking aspect of the picture was the expression on Anakin's face. 

He was smiling, and it wasn't a sad, tight-lipped smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, or an amused smirk, or even the little bashful expression that he wore when Obi-Wan teased him. Obi-Wan had never seen Anakin smile like that, a wide ear-to-ear grin that lit up his entire face, lit up the air around him, so brilliant that it nearly hurt to look at it. 

Obi-Wan's gut lurched slightly with the feeling that he was seeing something _extremely private._

Though he longed for another look, he swiftly flipped the photo back over and replaced it in the page where he'd found it before putting the whole production back in the drawer where he'd found it. He almost regretted having seen it in the first place. 

Still, though, the picture lingered in his mind. _What would he_ _have to do to get Anakin to smile like that?_

Obi-Wan pushed the thought away. He’d invaded Anakin's privacy enough. Instead, he picked up one of the books he’d brought and slipped on his reading glasses, propping up his legs on the arm of the couch.

He'd only read a page or two when he realized the words were slipping from his mind like grains of sand. The aches in his body from yesterday's ordeal were making themselves known. He was so tired... maybe if he just rested his eyes for a little while... 

The next thing he registered was the sound of clanking metal coming from the kitchenette. He blearily blinked his eyes open to see that the angle of the sunlight had changed significantly. More pertinently, Anakin was back, and appeared to be heating something up on the stove. 

Obi-Wan yawned and stretched. 

Anakin turned and leant back on the counter, giving him a bright smile. “Oh good, you’re awake. Lunch is almost ready.”

He sat up, his head spinning. The book that had been resting upside down on his chest slipped to the floor, and he frowned. “I didn't mean to fall asleep... what time is it?”

“A little after one. I tried not to disturb you. You need rest to heal.”

“Ah... thank you. I promise I don’t usually make a habit of sleeping half the day away.” Obi-Wan rubbed his beard, trying to discreetly ensure he hadn’t drooled on himself. 

“Seriously, don't worry about it.” Anakin paused for a second, looking like he was thinking very hard about something. “You'rekindofcutewhenyousleepanyway.”

Obi-Wan assumed a small, innocent smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”

“Nothing!” The blush was back. “Never mind.” Anakin spun around to busy himself at the stove. Obi-Wan allowed himself a moment to preen while his host’s back was turned. 

A few minutes later, Anakin seemed to have recovered from his fit of embarrassment. He ladled out two steaming bowls of leftover stew. 

“You can eat on the couch if you want. Just don’t spill.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Obi-Wan got himself situated as Anakin finished up in the kitchenette. To his delight, after Anakin handed him a bowl, he plunked down next to Obi-Wan and put up his own bare feet on the coffee table. 

“How was your walk?” Obi-Wan prompted.

“Great! A few trees were down, but no major damage. Oh, and I saw a pileated woodpecker about half a mile east of here.”

“What’s that?”

Anakin’s eyes lit up. “Largest species of woodpecker in the world. You might hear her while you’re here, their calls are really loud. She was up in an elm tree…”

Obi-Wan sat back, content to listen to Anakin waxing on about the park. He asked a question here and there, but Anakin seemed perfectly able to keep up a long recitation of anecdotes without much assistance. It was a tad difficult to follow sometimes—Anakin had a habit of bouncing around between topics on a mental thread that was obscure to Obi-Wan—but it was worth it just to watch how animated he became when he discussed his work. 

Even if he did talk with his mouth full. 

They kept up the discussion as Anakin washed the dishes, once again flatly refusing any help from Obi-Wan. Surprisingly, he even directed a few questions to Obi-Wan about his job as a professor. Obi-Wan deflected them handily, much preferring to listen. The longer he stayed here, the more his Monday afternoon class seemed like a looming specter... 

Clouds rolled in as the day wore on, covering the cabin in a light misting of rain. Anakin brought out some ice for his ankle, then sat down on the floor with his back up to the couch and began to whittle again. The carving was really taking shape now—some sort of four legged creature. 

The conversation reached a natural lull, prompting Obi-Wan to pick up another book, a well-loved collection of poetry. At first, he went at it with a pencil, scribbling notes in the margins whenever a new interpretation of a line occurred to him. Soon enough, he was drawn in by the words and put the pencil aside, lost in his imagination as the minutes slipped by, his only anchor to reality the gentle scraping of Anakin's knife against soft wood. 

He was so engrossed in his book that he barely even registered when the noise stopped.

“What are you reading?”

Anakin’s question interrupted him in the middle of a line, but he didn’t mind. Obi-Wan found himself rather touched by the genuine curiosity in his voice.

“Poems.”

“Someone else’s?”

“Yes. Her name is Audre Lorde. She’s one of the finest poets of the twentieth century, in my personal opinion.”

Anakin seemed disappointed by that. “Oh.”

Obi-Wan hummed. “Not interested anymore?”

“No, I just… I mean, poetry isn’t exactly my thing. As you probably guessed.” Anakin gestured around the cabin. 

No, there wasn’t an actual book in sight, as Obi-Wan had noticed during his little exploration from the couch.

“I wouldn’t say that. I think poetry quite suits the life of something who’s chosen to live out in the woods. Many writers and poets are famous for having done just that.”

“Right, but I’m not a poet.”

“You could be.” Obi-Wan studied Anakin’s face for a long minute, noting the way Anakin stared back before darting his eyes away, a blush visibly rising to his cheeks even in the shadow cast by the window at his back. “Would you like me to read you a passage?”

Anakin nodded, still a little shy. “I’d like that.”

Obi-Wan flipped through the book, debating what to read, until his eyes lighted on a particular favorite. _Of course._ He could hardly choose anything else. 

Anakin dropped his whittling in his lap and twisted to rest the side of his head on the couch next to Obi-Wan’s leg, gazing up at him with enormous blue eyes. A stray curl fell into his face, and the effort to resist stroking it back into place was nearly painful. 

Anakin was shy, elusive. A rare creature of the forest. It wasn’t yet time for Obi-Wan to reach out to him. He had to be coaxed, first. 

Obi-Wan began to recite with the cadence and emotion that such a poem deserved, opening his throat and enunciating so Anakin could hear every line, every syllable. 

_“Coming together_

_it is easier to work_

_after our bodies_

_meet_

_paper and pen_

_neither care nor profit_

_whether we write or not_

_but as your body moves_

_under my hands_

_charged and waiting_

_we cut the leash_

_you create me against your thighs_

_hilly with images_

_moving through our word countries_

_my body_

_writes into your flesh_

_the poem_

_you make of me._

_Touching you I catch midnight_

_as moon fires set in my throat_

_I love you flesh into blossom_

_I made you_

_and take you made_

_into me.”_

Anakin’s gaze didn’t stray once from his face while he read. Obi-Wan could feel its warmth, could see his rapt attention in the corner of his vision as his eyes swept down the page. He couldn’t keep the smile out of his voice, couldn’t stop the twitch of his lips, not when Anakin’s eyes widened so adorably as soon as the word _thighs_ rolled off his tongue.

Once he’d recited the final line, Obi-Wan finally met Anakin’s gaze. He catalogued the faint blush on his cheeks, the slight parting of his lips. “That one’s a favorite of mine. The cadence is flawless, flowing seamlessly from one line to the next. And her use of imagery, well...”

“I liked it,” said Anakin, voice softly sincere.

“I’m glad.”

“So, do you…” Anakin bit his lip, clearly feeling awkward about the question he’d started to ask.

“Do I what?” 

He tried again. “Do you write poetry like that?”

Obi-Wan smiled indulgently. “Like what, Anakin?”

Anakin shifted on the floor, looking anywhere but at him. Until his eyes finally traveled back to him, holding Obi-Wan’s gaze with startling confidence. “Poems about, you know, sex.”

Obi-Wan was a bit taken aback. He hadn’t actually expected Anakin to have the nerve to say it. “I… have, yes. In years past.”

“About… anyone in particular?” Anakin pressed.

Something in him shut down at the question; this gentle teasing wasn’t fun anymore. It had turned down a path he wasn’t willing to take. “Not anyone specific, no. Just… conceptual.”

“It has to be based on something. What about the woman you drew? The blonde one?”

“What about her?” Obi-Wan bit out, jaw clenching involuntarily around the word _her._

Anakin squinted at him as if searching for something. “I know she wasn’t no one. Were you dating? Are you dating?”

“I’m not going to answer that.” 

“Why not?” Anakin demanded. “It’s just a simple question.”

“One that I don’t want to discuss with you.”

Anakin frowned. “You can’t just ignore stuff like this. You have to talk about it. Get it out in the open.”

He slammed the book of poems closed with more force than strictly necessary. “There’s nothing _to_ talk about.”

“It doesn’t seem like that to me. It seems like either you used to be together, and aren't now, which is definitely _something,_ or you _are_ together, in which case— uh, whatever.”

Obi-Wan’s jaw was clenched so hard it hurt. The conversation had been going in such a pleasant direction, and then Anakin just _had_ to be his nosy, no-sense-of-reasonable-boundaries, _infuriating—_

“We are no longer together,” he said, the words coming out icy and clipped. “Does that satisfy you?”

Anakin shut his mouth for a moment, and Obi-Wan thought he’d finally gotten through to him. But then his eyebrows drew together. 

“No! It’s not fine! You should tell me what happened. I can see that something’s really upsetting you, if you would just talk to me—”

“Talk?” Obi-Wan's voice grew even colder. “To you? What _possible_ business of yours could this be?”

Anakin’s mouth opened and shut. “Obi-Wan, I—”

“What would you even know about relationships, anyway?” he continued, uncaring of what Anakin had to say. “You’re out here by yourself for most of the year.”

Anakin was stunned into silence. Blood was rushing in Obi-Wan’s ears. He couldn’t seem to make himself stop talking. 

“How would you like it if I asked you about the woman in the _only_ personal photo you have in this entire cabin, Anakin? If I asked you who she is? Asked you _where she is now?”_

As soon as the words left his mouth he regretted them. But it was too late to take them back.

Anakin didn’t say anything, staring at him blankly for a long stretch of time—for what felt like hours.

Bile rose in his throat as a sickening lump grew heavy in his chest, suffocating him. He opened his mouth and nothing came out for several seconds, his lungs choked. He heaved in another breath, searching for words.

“I’m—”

Abruptly, Anakin stood to his full height. The wood carving fell from his lap and landed on the floor with a soft thud, loud in the tense silence of the cabin.

“Get out.”

Obi-Wan’s heart skipped a beat. His eyes widened in disbelief. “What—”

“Get. Out.” Anakin’s voice was just as cold and emotionless the second time, so different from his usual soft lilt. Everything about his tone, his stiff posture, his thunderous expression, brooked no room for argument.

Obi-Wan’s eyes tracked to Anakin’s hand. His knuckles strained white from the strength of his grip on the whittling knife, its hilt clenched tight in his fist. 

Its blade was directed at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear.
> 
> Poem is [Recreation](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/42579/recreation) by Audre Lorde.
> 
> Come say hi to us ([luckee](http://luckee.tumblr.com/) and [septemberist](https://theseptemberist.tumblr.com/)) on tumblr!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Hozier mood for last chapter was "From Eden." This chapter? "Talk." 
> 
> Mind the rating bump, and enjoy!

Obi-Wan sat unmoving, his gaze frozen on Anakin. Anakin’s face, the delicate features twisted into an expression of utter vitriol. Anakin’s shoulders, set in fury. Anakin’s hand, shaking with a vice grip on the handle of the knife.

“Okay. I’ll leave.” He drew in a shaky breath, raising his hands defensively. “I’ll leave.”

Anakin watched silently as Obi-Wan heaved his foot off the coffee table and rose from the couch. He winced as he stepped down on his left foot in his haste _._ He limped to his backpack as fast as he could, shoved his feet into muddy sandals. The bandage on his left foot was too thick to fully get the sandal on so he settled for halfway. 

He realized with a start that he was still wearing Anakin’s clothes. His own were hanging in the bathroom, but there was no time, he was already swinging his backpack over one shoulder. No time to retrieve his glasses, his books, his _notebook._ Anakin had told him to get out, so get out he would.

He gulped down air like he was suffocating, his pulse racing in his ears. It was almost enough to drown out the sound of the knife clattering to the floor as Obi-Wan swung the red-painted door open. He slipped through, his shoulder colliding painfully with the frame on the way, and it shut behind him.

He gave himself a half-second to breathe, to think. Dread weighed like a heavy lump in his throat at the insurmountable task before him. Putting aside the fact he had to get down the mountain, first he needed to get down the _stairs._ But there was no time to consider his angle of approach. Anakin so clearly wanted him _gone._

He began to heave himself down step by step. The metal of the railing was chill and slick, the concrete steps filmed in dampness by the cold drizzle. Each step down was as vertigo-inducing as descending the rocky cliff face had been, and this time there was no handsome ranger who would come to save him if he fell. 

Obi-Wan was alone.

His ears were buzzing, but his vision grew strangely focused, until he could make out every pebble in the concrete, each shard of gravel at the bottom of the stairs, each bead of sparking dew on the clovers. He was so close to the bottom, to finishing the first step of this impossible journey. 

Of course the toe of his _damnable_ sandal caught on the last step. Obi-Wan pitched forward, the world moving in slow motion as he threw up his hands to catch himself. He hit the ground hard. The fall knocked the breath from his lungs and left him gasping, choking in the smell of wet grass.

He was dimly aware of searing pain in his ankle, of warm, stinging wetness where his palm had scraped gravel, but shock overlaid his perception, muting every sensation. Willfully ignoring the scrape on his hand, he tried too hastily to push himself up and regain his footing. His arms trembled with the strain and he only succeeded in rolling himself over onto his back, where he slowly began to regain his breath. 

Obi-Wan supposed he could lie here for a second, here on the cold, wet ground. He shivered a little and squinted up at the gray sky. The light was strangely blinding, even with all the clouds. Hadn’t Anakin said something about getting sunburned through clouds? He winced and pushed away the thought of Anakin, of what he’d said to him, shut his eyes and tried to keep his mind blank. He would get up in just a moment now... 

As if from a far distance, Obi-Wan heard the sound of bare feet frantically pounding on concrete. 

“Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan!” 

He opened his eyes. Anakin’s face swam into his vision. It was very far above him, but quickly getting closer. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I was just about to go.” 

“Shut up, Obi-Wan.” Anakin still looked so angry, his brows furrowed together in a hard line. His hands came up to lightly cup the sides of Obi-Wan’s face and began to tilt it back and forth. _Why was he being so gentle?_

“Did you hit your head? Are you bleeding?” he demanded. 

“...I don’t think so? If you let go of me, I’ll just...” 

“Good, stay there.” Anakin picked up his backpack from where it lay beside him, then crouched down again and began to slide his arms beneath Obi-Wan’s body. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Taking you back inside. Obviously.” Before Obi-Wan could protest, Anakin effortlessly lifted him up, once again cradling him in his arms, arranging him so that Obi-Wan’s spinning head was pillowed against Anakin’s chest. 

“But...” Obi-Wan blinked and shook his head as they began ascending the steps, trying to understand. _Anakin hated him, why..._

“I can’t believe you tried to go down the stairs,” Anakin seethed. His anger radiated palpably from his body in the form of heat, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but press a little closer, grateful for the warmth. “What were you thinking?”

“You told me to get out,” Obi-Wan managed, still a bit dazed. 

Anakin sounded almost hysterical. “Yeah, but you shouldn’t have listened to me, you idiot!”

“You seemed rather serious about wanting me to leave.” He automatically pulled in his legs so that they could maneuver through the door. Anakin paused for only a split second to wipe his feet on the mat before carrying him across the room.

“I didn’t actually want you gone, I was just—” Anakin swallowed as he lowered Obi-Wan down onto the couch. “I’m just angry.” 

“I understand perfectly,” said Obi-Wan weakly. He stared up at Anakin, who was standing over him again, but with hardly the cold, frightening demeanor of only a few minutes ago. Instead, his arms were crossed, and his eyes were rimmed red as if he was near tears. 

Then he sighed, unfolded his arms, and began to get Obi-Wan arranged in the way that had become very familiar in less than a day. 

“I’m going to take a look at your ankle, see if you need urgent care.” Anakin took his sandals off and propped his foot back up on the pillow, fussing around with the ice pack.

“I’m sure it’s fine.” His ankle was throbbing, yes, but it was no match for the guilt gnawing at his insides.

“You don’t know that,” Anakin snapped. 

Obi-Wan caught Anakin’s hand in midair on its way to inspect his ankle. “Anakin, listen to me. I’m _fine.”_

By some miracle, Anakin dropped his hand and looked up at him, eyes wide, almost panicked.

Obi-Wan didn’t allow his gaze to waver, needing Anakin to see as well as hear how sincere he was. “I need to apologize to you.”

“I have to check your ankle—”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan pleaded, softly, and Anakin finally sat back. He pulled in a steadying breath. 

“What I said about the photo was absolutely reprehensible. Looking through your things was already a line I shouldn’t have crossed.”

Anakin was silent, staring at him with his jaw locked, hands clenched on his thighs.

He continued. “I’m sorry I came across something so personal while snooping around in the home you so graciously invited me into. And I’m sorry I used that knowledge to lash out at you.”

“Why?” Anakin asked simply. The tension of anger slipped from his features, revealing only hurt beneath. “Why would you say something like that?” 

Obi-Wan’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t know. Trying to protect myself, I suppose. You were verging very close to a truth that I preferred not to face. In the moment, hurting you seemed an acceptable alternative. That’s something which I deeply regret.” 

“A truth?” Anakin frowned. “What do you mean?” 

“You were right. About the woman.”

Anakin quickly put up his hand. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Obi-Wan smiled, a tiny twitch of his lips, all he could muster at the moment. “I know. But I want to. I’ve grown to enjoy your company very much, Anakin. This is a significant part of my life, and I’ve been terribly rude in my attempts to hide it from you when you’ve only been curious about the stranger in your home.”

“No, no, I’m the one who was being too pushy, I was—”

“Perhaps,” Obi-Wan spoke over him gently, “But it’s time I accept what happened so I can move past it. So, I would like to share what happened with you, if you’d still like to hear it.”

Anakin nodded wordlessly.

He took a long moment to prepare himself, to unlock the chest he’d kept sealed for so long, stored away in the very back of his mind. “Satine was my partner of seven years. We separated last summer on poor terms.”

Anakin’s mouth went slack. “Oh. ...were you married?”

His jaw clenched. He knew it wasn’t Anakin’s fault, but somehow he always managed to poke the metaphysical wound where it hurt the most. “No. We… disagreed on marriage.”

“She wanted to get married and you didn’t?” Anakin guessed, rather innocently.

Obi-Wan chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, the words stuck in his throat. “Ah, no. She didn’t want to marry. I was the one who always pushed for more.” He opened his mouth to say more but decided against it.

Anakin noticed. “And so…?”

“And so, that’s the end of it. We argued plenty, and eventually we decided we couldn’t reconcile the issue and we parted ways.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “She wanted to remain friends, but I refused. As painful as losing her presence in my life was, the thought of being around her without getting to, well, _be with_ her, was even worse.” 

He swallowed back the lump in his throat. “She was my best friend. I have been... incredibly lonely.” 

Anakin wrung his wrist in his lap. Obi-Wan was drawn to the movement, something to focus on other than Anakin’s eyes studying him. “That was a year ago?”

Obi-Wan looked up. “Almost a year, yes. That's why I haven't written any poetry recently. I’ve just been... numb.” He shrugged helplessly. “The muse is gone.”

“Oh.” Understanding washed over Anakin's face, swiftly followed by regret. “I really am sorry I kept pushing you to talk about her. I didn’t think…”

Obi-Wan smiled weakly. “You couldn’t have known.”

“Yeah, but that was a dick move, even if things had ended better. You just…” Anakin blew out a loud breath. “You just seemed really hurt whenever I brought it up. I thought maybe if you got it all out there, I dunno. It would help, or something. I’m sorry. I’m an idiot.” 

“No.” He shook his head. “You were right. It did help. And maybe you shouldn’t have pushed, but... I forgive you.” 

Obi-Wan sighed. As difficult as it had been to share what happened with Satine, he feared this next part would be even harder. “I just hope that you can forgive me.” 

Anakin stared down at his hands. “You didn’t know what you were saying, either. The woman in the photo is my mom. _Was_ my mom.”

His heart panged with renewed guilt. “I’m so, deeply sorry. What I said was _horrific—”_

Anakin gave a tight-lipped smile, pain etched into every line and plane of his face. “You couldn’t have known.”

Anakin finally got up from his perch on the table and sank down onto the couch next to Obi-Wan. For a moment he looked far older than his years. He opened the drawer where Obi-Wan had found his notebook and retrieved it, pulling out the photo.

The contrast between the smiling boy in the picture and the man who sat before him now had never seemed more extreme.

Something fell over Anakin’s face as he looked at the photo, something soft. Nostalgia, perhaps. Memories, images playing out in his mind.

“We were really close. My dad wasn’t in the picture and I didn’t have siblings. It was just us.” Anakin paused for a long moment, staring hard at the photo. His hands started to tremble. “She died when I was nineteen.”

He knew what was coming, had tried to brace himself, but still Obi-Wan felt his heart shatter hearing the sheer amount of grief in Anakin’s voice. 

“Cancer. Didn’t have the money for good treatment.”

“I’m sorry, Anakin.” He felt a bit sick to his stomach, staring into the face of the world’s cruelty. “I cannot imagine the pain that caused you, to lose someone so dear to you at such a young age.”

“Yeah.” Anakin sniffled. He sounded a bit choked up, some of that anger returning to his voice. “It was really fucking unfair.”

He carefully, delicately set the photo down on the table. His hands began to shake even more violently, clenching and unclenching. 

“You didn’t deserve that,” Obi-Wan said softly. “No one does.”

Anakin was quiet for a long while. When he spoke, his voice was a croaky rasp. “I miss her a lot. I wish... I wish I could know if she was proud of me.” 

“You’re a very special person, Anakin,” said Obi-Wan. “I feel certain she would be.” 

Anakin nodded, but his voice was disbelieving. “Thanks.” 

Each inhale Anakin took racked his chest. He looked so lost. Obi-Wan's throat ached, seeing him like this. He wanted so desperately to reach out and comfort him, but there was his _damnable_ ankle, not to mention his all-too-recent detestable behavior... 

Without conscious volition, his arms raised in invitation. He forced them back down quickly, but not quickly enough. Anakin's eyes flicked back and forth between his arms and his face, their expression unreadable. Obi-Wan opened his mouth to apologize—

“Can I?” Anakin's voice was very small, but he was staring at Obi-Wan with naked longing. 

Obi-Wan swallowed heavily around his constricted throat and raised his arms again, wholeheartedly this time. “Of course, dear one.”

And then Anakin was on him, squeezing him, his breath rushing out and leaving him winded at the swift ferocity of the embrace. He'd spent plenty of time pressed up against his ranger in the past day, he supposed, but it had been nothing like this, with the full warmth of Anakin's body against his own, arms clinging to him desperately as a few of Anakin's tears trickled down his neck. 

Obi-Wan leaned into the hug, gently pulling Anakin even closer, rubbing circles on his trembling back. It felt so right to turn his own head and bury it in the soft waves of Anakin's hair, inhale his sharp, clean scent. 

Part of him urged to raise a hand and lift that curtain aside, to press a kiss to the juncture of Anakin's neck and see what kind of noise he would make, but that was not what Anakin needed from him right now. So instead Obi-Wan simply held him, as close as he could, as Anakin shuddered and sobbed into his shoulder. 

“Thank you,” Anakin said thickly, his voice slightly muffled. “I’m sorry I’m getting your shirt all wet.” 

Obi-Wan laughed, a genuine laugh, and felt a small measure of heartache lift. 

“What’s so funny?” Anakin grumbled.

“It’s not my shirt, darling.”

“Oh.” He felt Anakin’s laugh more than he heard it. “That’s true.” 

They held on for a moment longer before slowly relinquishing each other, Anakin still sniffling a little and rubbing at his eyes.

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess.”

Obi-Wan gently coaxed Anakin’s hands away from his face, giving them a reassuring squeeze. Anakin gazed at him with those wide doe eyes, now red-rimmed and glassy in a way he never wanted to see them again. Even with tears clumping his lashes and tracking down his cheeks, Anakin looked beautiful. 

“You don’t look like a mess to me,” Obi-Wan murmured. “However, I much prefer to see you smiling.”

He couldn’t resist reaching out to wipe away the tears with his thumb. Anakin made a small, wounded noise and leaned into the touch, the corner of his lips just brushing against Obi-Wan's inner wrist. The touch was sweet, innocent, but still sent a small shiver up his arm. 

He ignored the feeling, stroking his thumb gently back and forth along Anakin's cheek before finally giving in to the urge to thread fingers through blond curls and push them back out of Anakin’s eyes. He smiled at Anakin's pleased exhale before pulling away and watching blue eyes blink back open. 

“Feeling a little better?” Obi-Wan asked. 

“Yeah, I think.” Anakin’s eyes suddenly widened. “Oh! I almost forgot. Hang on.” 

Obi-Wan watched in confusion as Anakin leapt up from the couch and hurried to a storage unit that stood by the door of the cabin. After a few seconds of rummaging, he returned, now with his hands hidden behind his back. 

“What have you got there?” 

Anakin chewed on his lip. “Earlier, when you talked about the writer’s block, I was thinking— Well, first off, I’m sorry I went through your notebook like that last night. That probably wasn’t good.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, please go on.” Obi-Wan smiled encouragingly.

“Okay.” Anakin took a deep breath and began to talk very quickly. “I was thinking, you have that notebook, right? And it's full of old memories, good memories! But they're also painful, like we said, and that’s probably not so good when you’re trying to write something new. So I thought, maybe if you had a clean slate and, well…” —he stopped to heave in another breath— “Here.” 

Anakin, trying his best to look anywhere but at Obi-Wan, thrust his hand forward. In it, he held a spiral notebook. It was simple, the type sold for ninety-nine cents in the drugstore, college-ruled with a shiny black cover. 

With the exception of its pristine state, it was an exact copy of Anakin's journal. 

Obi-Wan stared at it for several seconds. He tilted his head up to look at Anakin, who was still chewing his lip and staring at the floor. Then he looked back down at the notebook again. 

He blinked. His eyes stung. It felt as though some great weight was pressing against the inside of his chest. 

“I know it’s not as nice as your other one. If you don't want it, I’ll just—”

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s voice came out strangled and unrecognizable. His vision seemed to be blurring. He reached out and took the notebook, coaxing it out of Anakin's tight grip. “It’s perfect.”

Anakin’s head shot up. “You— you like it?”

Obi-Wan laughed then, and felt a tear slide down his cheek. “Yes. Yes, I like it. It’s probably one of the most thoughtful gifts anyone has ever given me.” 

“Oh.” Anakin's voice was small and awed. He stood frozen, staring at Obi-Wan, twisting his fingers together. 

Obi-Wan wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand and sniffed a little. He hadn’t cried since— since Satine. He took a moment to gather himself, admiring the notebook and petting the cover with his hand. Once he felt reasonably sure his voice wouldn't waver, he looked back up.

“Thank you, Anakin. I mean it. This is truly wonderful.”

Anakin shook his head vehemently. “It’s nothing. Just a stupid thing I had lying around, no big deal.”

“It’s not nothing to me.” Obi-Wan’s brow furrowed. It was concerning that his ranger was so averse to accepting compliments. 

“Okay, well, um... oh! I should probably look at your ankle now.” Anakin visibly switched back into concerned park ranger mode. He was clearly eager to move on to something that was less emotionally fraught. 

Obi-Wan allowed it, setting the notebook down on the coffee table and sitting back with a grimace. “I suppose. Prod away.”

Anakin sat on the table in front of him as he had the previous night and lifted Obi-Wan’s foot into his lap very gently. He pulled off his sandal and unwrapped the bandages to inspect his ankle. Obi-Wan kicked his other shoe off and away under the table.

He couldn’t help but focus on Anakin’s slightly parted lips as he carefully turned his foot to examine the darker bruising on the inside of his ankle. 

“Can you bend it, or does it hurt too much?” Anakin asked, brows knitted together in concentration.

Obi-Wan obediently rolled his ankle, just the smallest movement, with Anakin’s palm still a warm pressure on the arch of his foot. He hissed at the sting of pain when he tried to bend it too far. “It doesn’t hurt any worse than it did yesterday.”

“It’s probably not fractured then,” Anakin concluded. “But you should still see a doctor if it keeps hurting after a few days. It could be a fracture in your foot that’s radiating pain to your ankle.”

Obi-Wan absently hummed his acknowledgement, more focused on the sound of Anakin’s voice than the words he was saying.

Anakin straightened up. “Wait, shit. I think I might have ibuprofen around here somewhere. I should’ve remembered earlier. Would that help?”

“If you’re offering,” Obi-Wan said, not particularly concerned about it, but Anakin rearranged his foot on the throw pillow so he could spring up to go digging around in the cabinets. 

He came back with a couple of recognizable red pills and a glass of water. Obi-Wan took both gratefully, swallowing the pills and washing them down, the water soothing on his overly dry throat. 

“Thank you, Anakin. That should help.” Obi-Wan smiled as he handed the half-drained glass back to him. 

To his surprise, Anakin tilted the glass back and drank the rest of it. It exposed the long line of his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

Anakin noticed his gaze and shrugged sheepishly. “Throat was a little dry.”

“Right,” Obi-Wan agreed, very much wanting to kiss the small dribble of water from Anakin’s lip.

“Let me see your hands.”

They weren’t too roughed up, only some minor scrapes from trying to brace his fall. Anakin dabbed a cotton ball at one of the deeper scrapes, where some sharp gravel must have cut into the flesh of his palm. Obi-Wan let out a soft involuntary hiss as the antiseptic worked its way into the raw skin. Anakin looked up at him regretfully. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s alright,” Obi-Wan assured him. “Just a little sting.”

“You have to be more careful with your hands,” Anakin scolded, a much softer version of yesterday’s chastisements. 

A lot had changed since yesterday, Obi-Wan supposed. “What’s so important about my hands?”

Anakin’s eyes flitted up to him, a smile twitching his lips. “How are you going to write the next great American poem if you can’t hold a pen?”

“I highly doubt I’ll be writing _any_ poetry anytime soon,” Obi-Wan said, aiming for light-hearted, but self-deprecation constricted his throat and made the words come out strained.

“You’re hard on yourself,” Anakin said, pushing out his lower lip in a pout. “I don’t like it.”

The undertone of sincere concern loosened something tight in his chest.

“You didn't bite your lip again, did you?” Anakin worried his own lip with his teeth as he spoke. 

Obi-Wan checked it with his tongue, probing at the spot that was still slightly tender. “No, I don’t think so.”

“I should still take a look, just to be sure.”

Obi-Wan shut his eyes and nodded, opening them when he felt the lightest of touches brush his chin. Anakin slowly, gently tilted his face up and to the side, his wide blue gaze fixed on Obi-Wan's mouth. He was very close. Obi-Wan held his breath as Anakin brought faintly trembling fingers to brush across his lower lip. 

“I think it’s healing well. It’ll be totally better soon,” Anakin said softly. He stroked there again, as if making sure, and Obi-Wan shivered pleasantly as the hairs on the back of his neck rose. He wanted so badly to kiss those fingers, to take them into his mouth, but he couldn't be so forward, not after what just happened. He would have to be content just to look at Anakin, to drink in his beautiful face, his heart-clenching expression of earnest care and concern. 

Anakin brushed Obi-Wan's lip one more time and let his hand fall, nerveless, into his lap. He was still holding Obi-Wan's jaw, and his eyes flicked up to meet his gaze. 

“You’re staring at me again,” he murmured. 

Obi-Wan blinked slowly. “Yes.”

“You... like looking at me?” Anakin nearly whispered.

His breath hitched. “Yes, Anakin. I like it very much.”

For a moment they sat frozen, studying each other's faces. Obi-Wan realized his heart was hammering behind his ribs. He braced himself for Anakin to pull away. The thought was devastating, he couldn't take it, he had to break the silence.

“Anakin, I— mmph!” 

Without warning, and rather artlessly, Anakin surged forward and pressed his lips over Obi-Wan’s own. Obi-Wan’s lips responded of their own accord, shaping themselves to the kiss, while the rest of him froze, mind utterly blank except for a buzzing litany of _Anakin was kissing him, he was kissing Anakin, Anakin..._

He winced very slightly as teeth brushed the half-healed cut on his lip. Anakin pulled back sharply, snatching his hand away from Obi-Wan’s cheek as if burned. His face was etched with shock, as if he couldn't quite believe what he'd just done.

“I’m s-sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you— I shouldn’t have, I’ll just…” His eyes darted around and he twisted his face away, cheeks quickly turning beet-red. 

“Anakin.” He grasped his ranger’s chin firmly and tugged his head back to face him. “I very much enjoyed kissing you.”

“You— you did?” 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan couldn't resist smirking at him, watching his expressive features shift as Obi-Wan stroked his jaw. He was so _cute._ “I’d like to do it again. Would you like that, sweetheart?”

Anakin’s eyes went as wide as saucers. He nodded frantically. 

Obi-Wan sat back into the couch cushions and patted his thighs. “Why don’t you come here?” 

“Okay.” Anakin nodded again. “Okay.”

He clambered into Obi-Wan’s lap, careful to avoid jostling his leg. Once Anakin was straddling him, he hovered there awkwardly, seemingly unsure what to do with himself. 

“Sit back now, that’s it.” Obi-Wan gently tugged on Anakin's belt loops, guiding him to perch on his legs, not pressing their hips together quite yet. “Now…”

He gave into the urge to thread his hand through Anakin’s hair again, raking it back from his face. It was as soft as it looked, and he combed through it a few times, filing away in the back of his mind how Anakin gasped when his fingers caught briefly on a tangle. Finally, he cupped Anakin's head in both his hands, drawing him slowly closer. 

This time, the kiss was soft, hesitant. Obi-Wan took his time, moving ever-so-gently, until Anakin began to pant softly and his mouth fell open. Anakin's hands came up to grasp his shoulders as Obi-Wan slid his tongue over Anakin's lower lip, slipping it into his mouth. 

He tasted sweet, and the whimper he gave was even sweeter. Obi-Wan wanted to hear it again, to hear every little pleasured noise that Anakin could make, to draw them out with his body. He continued exploring Anakin’s mouth with his tongue, stroking down his sides to tease along the hem of his t-shirt. His ranger shuddered pleasantly and squirmed closer, so Obi-Wan slid a hand beneath his shirt, feeling smooth skin and the play of muscle underneath. 

Anakin clutched at him, sliding forward in his lap until they were pressed flush together. Obi-Wan let a groan slip out. He could feel Anakin's hardness brushing against his own, beckoning him to grind upwards, so he did, slowly rolling his hips into Anakin's as his hands explored every inch of skin under his shirt. It felt so _good_ to finally have his ranger’s body under his palms.

Anakin was gasping, kissing him back fervently, clinging onto his shoulders like a life raft. Clinging almost too hard, gasping wrenched inhales, nearly panicky. Obi-Wan's brow furrowed in concern and he withdrew his tongue, slipped his hands back out of Anakin's shirt. 

“Are you alright, Anakin?” He cupped his ranger’s face, examining his expression. 

Anakin’s response came in a shaky rush. “Yes, I’m great, why are you stopping?”

“You’re trembling. Did I do something to upset you?”

“No!” He shook his head violently. “I just... got overwhelmed. I’m okay now.”

"What was overwhelming?" 

Anakin chewed his lip. “You were just... touching me, and kissing me, and it was a lot, but I liked it! I liked it. I didn’t want you to stop.” He frowned, clearly concerned with impressing this on Obi-Wan. 

"We don't have to stop, darling. I only want to make sure that you're alright." 

Anakin sighed in relief. "Okay." 

“We certainly don’t have to go as far as sex if you don’t want to.”

“No!” Anakin blurted. “I mean, I want to do more. I want to. Um. Have sex. With you.”

Obi-Wan cocked his head, observing the nervous expression that Anakin still wore. Several details occurred to him at once—the particulars of Anakin's phrasing; his blushes; how quickly simple kissing and touching overcame him. He'd been aware Anakin was lonely, and untutored, but he hadn't quite considered... 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmured, rubbing small little circles into his thighs. “Have you ever had sex before?”

“I— um—” Anakin stammered. “Not— no. Nothing more than kissing. With tongue, a couple times.”

Oh, his darling ranger was _precious._

“But I want to! I really want to,” Anakin rushed out in a panic, as if afraid Obi-Wan was really about to limp out the door because he’d never had sex.

“Shh,” Obi-Wan hushed him, smiling. “There’s nothing wrong with being inexperienced. We’ll just go slow. Is that alright with you?” He tucked a stray curl behind Anakin’s ear.

Anakin melted into the touch, his shoulders relaxing. “Yeah. Okay.” Suddenly he froze. “Wait. Your ankle.”

Right.

That was an issue.

Obi-Wan wanted nothing more than to press Anakin into the mattress, throw Anakin’s legs over his shoulders and have his way with him. Fuck into him slow and deep, draw out moans until his sweet ranger was too hoarse to speak.

Unfortunately, his injury rendered that exact scenario impossible right now, at least impossible without arousal-killing pain.

“If we—” Anakin interrupted his thoughts, “If we do anything, we should move to the bed.” He seemed embarrassed about his suggestion, perhaps because a bed was rather more intimate than a couch, but he was nonetheless insistent. “There’s more room.”

Obi-Wan considered it for a moment. Yes, there were plenty of things they could do, even with his twisted ankle, if afforded the space and comfort of a bed. “Yes, let’s go to the bed.”

Anakin climbed off his lap, and Obi-Wan made to get up, but before he could he found himself once again being scooped up by strong, muscular arms. He supposed he should hardly be surprised, at this point. He craned his neck enough to press a brief kiss to Anakin's jawline. 

He could get used to this.

Anakin gently deposited him on the bed, close enough to the wall that he was able to prop himself up in a sitting position. Then he stood next to the bed, bunching his hands in the fabric of his jeans, seemingly uncertain of how to proceed. 

Obi-Wan smiled up at him. “I’d love for you to join me, darling, but there's something I’d like for you to do first."

“What’s that?” Apprehension colored Anakin's voice, but his posture relaxed a little. 

“I want to see all of you.”

“S-see me?”

“Have I mentioned before that you’re absolutely stunning?” Obi-Wan trailed fingertips down Anakin’s shirt, playing a bit with the hem without actually lifting it up. “I’d like to see your body, Anakin." 

Anakin gaped. His flush disappeared beneath the collar of his shirt. 

Obi-Wan was looking forward to seeing just how far down it went. 

“Okay. Okay.” Obi-Wan bit back a chuckle as Anakin bounced on his toes, psyching himself up. Then he reached a tanned arm behind his back and pulled off his shirt in one smooth motion, and the urge to laugh died in favor of awe. The impact of Anakin’s bared chest on his arousal wasn’t lessened by having seen it before. Obi-Wan allowed his eyes to wander, to follow that enticing trail of hair down into his jeans.

“Pants, as well,” he encouraged sweetly, “Everything off.”

Anakin suddenly looked hesitant. “Can you…” 

“Yes?”

“Can you take off your shirt then?”

Obi-Wan smiled. “If that would make you more comfortable.”

Anakin’s face went soft and earnest. “I want to see you, too.”

And oh, if that didn’t make his heart flutter a bit.

Obi-Wan unbuttoned the flannel slowly. Anakin watched rapt as he did so while fumbling blindly with the button on his jeans. Obi-Wan supposed Anakin was taking advantage of this opportunity to look at him in the way he hadn’t been able to the last time, too flustered from walking in on him changing to do anything but flee. Obi-Wan finished shrugging the shirt off his shoulders and set it on the nightstand in some semblance of a folded pile.

Anakin hastily kicked off his jeans and underwear before climbing onto the bed, right into Obi-Wan’s lap. Strong, lean thighs straddled his hips, Anakin’s pretty cock bobbing with the movement, already standing at attention.

“What now?” Anakin asked, all bright eyes and eager innocence focused unwaveringly on him. 

Obi-Wan grinned, knowing just what he wanted to do with this pretty little thing in his lap. He tugged Anakin’s hips closer, reveling in the way Anakin briefly startled at the touch. “Tell me, darling. Have you ever had a mouth on your cock?”

Anakin was fully bared to him, completely on display, and yet he still somehow managed to look seductively coy, blushing lightly. “No.”

“I’d like to do that for you,” Obi-Wan said softly. “Would you like that, Anakin? Would you like my mouth on your cock?”

Anakin's eyes widened. “You would do that? I mean, um. Yes. Please. I would like that.”

Obi-Wan considered their position. “Now, normally I would kneel for you,” —Anakin gulped— “but given my current state, I think it would be better for you to come to me.”

“Come to you, like how?” Anakin blinked in confusion.

“Here, I’ll show you.” Obi-Wan pulled Anakin up fully onto his knees, until he was straddling Obi-Wan’s chest. “Like this.”

Anakin met his gaze with wide eyes and then whipped his head up, seemingly overwhelmed by the sight of his own erection only inches from Obi-Wan’s face. His hands drifted, uncertain, by his sides, before finally coming to rest very lightly on Obi-Wan's shoulders. 

Obi-Wan drank in the sight before him. Anakin's hard cock jutted out from his hips, flushed the same deep pink shade Obi-Wan had become so accustomed to seeing on his face. It was absolutely perfect, from the single bead of precome glistening at the tip right down to the thatch of dark golden curls at the base. Of _course_ it was perfect. It was a part of Anakin, after all. 

“You are so gorgeous, Anakin. Even here.” Obi-Wan swiped his finger through the droplet, dragging it lightly down Anakin's length and drawing out a whimper. “Especially here.” He continued stroking him lightly, noting the way his teasing made the muscles in Anakin's hip jump and his breath catch. 

“Do you know what you like?” 

“W-what do you mean?” Anakin stammered.

“How you like to be touched, I mean.” Obi-Wan brushed over the head on _touched_ and Anakin’s hips bucked forward. 

“I— I don't think so,” Anakin managed. “I mean, I jack off sometimes, but— _ahh!”_

“I see,” said Obi-Wan, moving away from teasing the head to finally take a firm grip on the base of Anakin’s cock. “Well, I’d like for us to figure that out together.” He began to stroke slowly. “When I’m sucking you off, I want to hear you. I want you to tell me when something feels good. Do you think you can do that for me?”

Anakin nodded hesitantly. “I’ll try. I— I wanna be good for you.”

“You already are, darling. You’re doing so well, you deserve to feel good.”

His ranger was a _gift._ Even when Obi-Wan was about to blow him, he was still so eager to please. But Anakin really needed to get out of his own head, to simply enjoy the moment. 

Obi-Wan decided to help him by leaning forward, taking the head of his cock into his mouth and sucking gently.

“Shit! Fuck!” Anakin's hand flew up and slammed against the windowpane. “Oh my God.”

Obi-Wan gave the head an experimental lick, pairing it with just a little bit more suction. Anakin took in a sharp inhale, his blunt nails scratching over the glass. The poor thing was already trembling.

Obi-Wan pulled off, just enough so his lips still brushed against the tip as he spoke. “Was that too much?”

“No!” Anakin said, wide eyes blinking down at him. “I just… that feels really good, and I don’t think I’m going to last very long.”

Obi-Wan brought a hand around to cup Anakin’s ass, giving the cheek a gentle squeeze. Muscles automatically flexed under his hand. “This isn’t about seeing how long you can last. This is about your pleasure, nothing else. Does that ease your worries?”

Anakin nodded, swallowing hard. “Okay. I’m still not going to last very long.”

No, he probably wouldn’t, Obi-Wan thought as he took Anakin’s cock back into his mouth, using his grip on Anakin’s ass to pull him in closer. He swallowed him down until the head was pressed up against the back of his throat. Anakin moaned beautifully, eyes rolling back a bit, fingertips of one hand digging into Obi-Wan’s shoulder to keep himself steady as his cock was enveloped in wet heat for the first time. 

Obi-Wan began to bob his head, trying different motions with lips and tongue, learning what drew a reaction. The answer seemed to be _everything,_ Anakin keeping up a constant stream of curses, moans, and gasps as Obi-Wan pleasured him with his mouth. Obi-Wan drank in each and every one, especially enjoying the disbelieving keen when he took Anakin's cock all the way to the hilt. 

Anakin's noises grew more and more frantic as Obi-Wan worked him. He flicked his tongue, curving it under the head. Anakin's hips jerked forward with a breathless gasp from above, so he repeated the motion. 

“Fuck fuck fuck, oh my God, Obi-Wan, there, there, that’s so, fuck—” Anakin's legs shook uncontrollably. Obi-Wan reached up to cradle his balls, feeling them tighten up towards Anakin’s body. He performed his ministrations again and again, lovingly tormenting Anakin with his tongue.

“Obi-Wan, I— I’m gonna—”

He hummed affirmatively around Anakin’s cock and took him down as deep as he could. One more startled moan and Anakin’s come began to spill down his throat. Obi-Wan grabbed hold of his hips to steady him as he bucked and writhed and moaned through his orgasm. Only once he'd swallowed every last drop did he finally let Anakin's cock slip from his mouth. 

Obi-Wan took in the dazed expression on Anakin’s face, smirking as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

Horror flashed in Anakin’s eyes. “Oh my God, I’m sorry, I tried to warn you—”

“Hush, sweetheart. You did so well. I wanted to taste you.”

“Oh... I didn’t know.” Anakin blinked hazily, and his knees wobbled. 

“Come here.” Obi-Wan drew Anakin down into his lap, letting him rest against his chest. “Catch your breath for a minute, that’s it.” He stroked through golden curls as Anakin buried his face in his neck. 

“You did so, so well,” Obi-Wan murmured, “Came so prettily for me. You were so good, Anakin, just rest now.” 

Anakin did, only moving to press an additional kiss into the side of Obi-Wan's neck. Obi-Wan savored the solid warmth of Anakin on top of him, Anakin’s heart thumping against his chest, his breathing still a little labored. 

After a few minutes, Anakin pulled back and looked Obi-Wan in the eyes, his gaze clear. “I think I’m ready now.”

“For what, darling?” Obi-Wan stroked up and down his spine.

“For you to, um.” His voice dropped in volume. _“Fuck_ me.” 

Obi-Wan's cock twitched violently. He swallowed down the urge to yank Anakin in for a bruising kiss, instead continuing to stroke his back lightly. 

“Are you absolutely sure?” he asked. “We’ve done a lot already. I would understand if you wanted to stop for now.”

Anakin didn't hesitate. “I’m sure. I want this. Want you.” 

Obi-Wan nodded, smiling. “Alright. But be patient. We’re going to have to get you ready first.” He tilted his head appraisingly. “Have you ever touched yourself, Anakin? Tried to finger yourself open?”

Anakin hesitated before shaking his head. “I kinda tried once, a long time ago, but I didn’t get very far…” He shrugged, looking horribly apologetic.

“That’s perfectly alright,” Obi-Wan soothed. “In fact, I’m _very_ much looking forward to giving you this pleasure for the first time.”

Obi-Wan reached up and traced the curve of Anakin's ass with his fingers, just to watch him shudder. Then he let his hand fall away.

“If you want to do this—”

Anakin nodded vigorously. “I definitely do.”

Obi-Wan pursed his lips in an effort to restrain his fond amusement. “—we’re going to need lube.”

“Oh, fuck—” Anakin’s face crumpled with something like heartbreak. “I don’t have anything.”

“That’s fine.” Obi-Wan was unable to stop his lips from curving up at the sight of Anakin’s little pout. As cute as it was, he would do _everything_ in his power to ensure that dejected look didn’t cross Anakin’s face again. “Go to my backpack.”

Anakin snapped out of his misery to gape at him incredulously. “No. Don’t tell me you...”

“I told you, I come prepared for _certain_ things,” Obi-Wan lilted, but Anakin was already groaning over his words.

“Not a single bandaid, but you brought lube! For a _hike!”_ Anakin swung his leg over Obi-Wan in one swift movement, springing off the bed and walking over to the couch to retrieve Obi-Wan’s backpack. 

Obi-Wan took this gracious opportunity to admire the view of a firm, sweetly rounded ass, a shade paler than most of Anakin’s tanned skin. “In the front pocket.”

“No sunscreen, no food...” Anakin continued grumbling under his breath. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but grin, his eyes dancing over Anakin’s bare form, his lovely soft cock, as he walked back to the bed. Anakin climbed on top of him again, this time with a packet of lube in his hand.

“This better not be expired.”

“It shouldn’t be.” Obi-Wan plucked the packet from his grasp and ripped it open, spreading some of the cool gel on his fingers before tossing it aside.

“Open your legs a little wider for me?" 

Anakin complied, shifting his knees on the bed. 

“Yes, that’s perfect. Just where I want you.”

Obi-Wan reached around with his unlubed hand to gently pry Anakin’s cheeks apart. 

“I’m just going to touch on the outside at first, is that alright?”

Anakin nodded. Needing no further encouragement, Obi-Wan delved in between soft flesh with his fingers. Anakin whimpered as he rubbed small circles around his trembling hole, getting him used to the sensation of being touched there. To his surprise and delight, Anakin's cock twitched before his eyes and began to fill. 

“So eager for me,” he murmured, applying more pressure with his fingers. “You like it when I stroke your pretty hole, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Anakin gasped. “Please, I want—”

“What do you want? I need you to say it for me, dear one.”

“More. Please.”

“My fingers inside you?” 

Anakin nodded bashfully. "Mmm-hmm." 

Obi-Wan finally eased his forefinger in, sinking into the _very_ tight heat of his ranger’s body. He watched Anakin’s face carefully, the twitching of his features as he adjusted to the new sensation. 

“How’s that?” 

“Um...” Anakin’s face screwed up in concentration. “Different. But good, different.” 

“I’d like to put in another, darling.” Obi-Wan took a moment to pet Anakin’s inner thigh with the other hand. “Only if you’re comfortable, of course.” 

Anakin thought about that for a second. “Yeah, I think so.” 

Obi-Wan pulled his finger out and then added a second, pressing in even more slowly, feeling Anakin tremble slightly at the stretch. He was so _tight._

“Still feel alright?” he murmured. Anakin nodded, his grip digging into the muscles of Obi-Wan’s shoulders. Obi-Wan gave him a few more seconds to adjust and then began to move, gently pushing in and out.

Muscles clenched tight around his fingers and he paused knuckle-deep.

“Just relax, Anakin.”

“I know.” Anakin let out a shaky breath. “It’s just, a lot.”

“We can take a break, if you’d like.”

“No!” Anakin shook his head adamantly. “No, keep going. It feels good. I’m just, getting used to it.”

“You’re doing so very well,” Obi-Wan praised, sliding his fingers out very slowly before pressing back in at the same glacial pace. “Take all the time you need, I’m in no rush. Trust me to take care of you.”

“I do.” His eyes shone surprisingly clear and focused, a soft smile curving his lips.

“Why don’t you come here?” Obi-Wan slid his unoccupied hand to Anakin’s back and pulled him closer. He hadn’t spent nearly enough time kissing his ranger, and that was a situation that had to be rectified. 

They met in a languid press, tongues moving together. Obi-Wan deepened the contact until he was sure Anakin’s delicious lips would be kiss-swollen, then moved to his neck, letting the sensations distract Anakin as he grew used to the slow movement of Obi-Wan’s fingers. Anakin exhaled shakily into his ear, and he lavished attention on every sensitive spot. 

A gasp escaped Obi-Wan’s own lips when Anakin reached down and tugged at his hair, pulling him back for another kiss. His ranger was so eager, and he took it as permission to bite down on his lower lip, nibbling and sucking until Anakin moaned into his mouth and he finally pulled back. 

Anakin looked so gorgeously flustered, he couldn’t help himself from curling his fingers in, stroking along Anakin’s inner walls with careful precision. 

_“Ahh!”_

Anakin bucked his hips forward as if by reflex, nearly losing his balance, scrambling to find purchase on Obi-Wan’s shoulders again. “Oh my God,” he squeaked.

Obi-Wan crooked his fingers again, pressing in deep. He earned himself another loud gasp, hips snapping into his hand.

“Does that feel good, Anakin? Do you like having my fingers in your ass?” 

“Yes,” Anakin panted, squirming back onto his fingers, seeking more of that pressure. “That—what you just did—that felt so good.”

He was patient by nature but this was trying even for him, to take it slow when every noise Anakin made increased his need to sheathe his cock in that tight, wet heat. He forced himself to hold back, not wanting to overwhelm Anakin all at once, taking a few more minutes to scissor him open with two fingers as he writhed and gasped.

“Do you think you can take another finger?” He ceased his movements, letting Anakin decide. 

After a moment, he nodded. “Please, Obi-Wan…” 

His name sounded so, so good on Anakin's lips. He drew his fingers nearly all the way out, and then pressed three in, listening carefully to make sure Anakin wasn't in any pain as he stretched him open even more.

“How does that feel now, darling?” 

"Good," Anakin sighed out, eyes half-lidded and blissful. "Full." 

“You take my fingers so well, so beautifully, you're so beautiful for me…” Obi-Wan kept up a steady stream of praise as he continued to slowly pump his fingers in and out, setting an even pace until they were gliding effortlessly, Anakin's hole opened and fluttering around him.

“I think you’re ready for my cock,” Obi-Wan finally decided. He curled his fingers in again, just to hear Anakin let out a startled moan, to feel him quiver and shake around him. “Is that what you want? Do you want my cock to stretch you open, fill you up better than my fingers ever could?”

“Yes, yes, I want that, right _now,”_ Anakin nearly sobbed. His walls clenched and unclenched around Obi-Wan’s fingers.

“What is it that you want, dear? Be specific.”

“Your cock,” Anakin pleaded, flushing even deeper as the words left his lips, “I want your cock. _Please,_ I need— I need—”

“Shh. I’ll give you what you need.” Obi-Wan slowly withdrew his fingers, enjoying Anakin’s sigh of disappointment. “Because I’m not able to move much, here’s what we’re going to do.” He stroked Anakin’s thighs, brushing his thumbs along the bare skin. “I’d like for you to sit down on my cock and ride me. Does that sound good to you?”

Anakin's eyes widened. “Yes, I want that. I wanna try that. But—” he bit his lip, “I don’t know if I can do it right.”

“I’ll guide you through it.” Obi-Wan kept stroking Anakin’s thighs, down to his knees and all the way back up to his hips, squeezing lightly. “This isn’t about skill or experience. This is about enjoying each other’s company. Finding pleasure together.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know if I can make it good for you, the way I want to—”

Obi-Wan drew him down with a hand on the back of his neck and kissed him soundly, pouring into it all of the warm affection he felt blooming in his chest.

Anakin made a contented little sound into his mouth when Obi-Wan deepened the kiss, just for a moment laving his tongue along Anakin’s kiss-swollen lower lip.

He smiled as he pulled back. “All you need to do is listen to me. I’ll be here with you every step of the way, and we can always stop whenever you please.”

“I don't think I’ll want to stop,” Anakin said firmly, seemingly emboldened by the kiss. 

“Good,” Obi-Wan chuckled, and pressed his palm to Anakin's lower abdomen, just above his cock. “Because I’d really love to put my come inside of you.” 

Anakin squeaked _._ Obi-Wan wondered if his ranger would ever cease to be so affected by the simplest of dirty talk. He rather hoped not. 

Obi-Wan reached down towards his pants, and then sighed. _Damn_ this injury. Anakin caught the movement and pushed his hands away. 

“Wait! Here, let me do it,” he insisted, and hooked his fingers in the waistband. Obi-Wan begrudgingly lifted his hips off the bed to help the process along. Anakin’s eyes widened briefly as his hard cock bobbed free, but he kept to his task, carefully maneuvering each pant leg down and off to avoid hurting Obi-Wan’s ankle. 

Anakin tossed the sweatpants aside and began to crawl back up Obi-Wan’s body. He straddled him again, hovering over his thighs. He seemed to be contemplating something, his gaze focused on Obi-Wan’s cock.

“What is it, dear?”

“You’re, uh…” Anakin’s tongue flicked out to lick his lips. “Really big.”

Obi-Wan grinned. “And yet I know you’ll take me so very well. Won’t you?”

Anakin shivered a bit at that, but nodded in affirmation. He looked up at him. “Can I… touch you?”

Obi-Wan cocked his head appraisingly. “You’ve been such a good boy for me, telling me what you want, so yes, I think you’ve earned it.” Obi-Wan reached over to the bedside table and handed a wide-eyed Anakin the packet of lube. “You can get my cock ready for you to ride.”

Nodding, Anakin squeezed out a small glob of lube into his hand. He touched Obi-Wan’s cock tentatively at first, long fingers curling around the shaft, getting a feel for him. Anakin began to pump him, spreading the cold lube over the length of his cock and then warming it up with his palm. 

Obi-Wan felt his cock plump up even more under Anakin’s gentle yet firm ministrations, blood rushing in and forcing out a dab of precome from the slit. A few soft groans came almost involuntarily from his throat. It had been so long since he’d had another’s hand on him, since his cock had throbbed with this much want, this much need for the heat of another’s body.

Anakin started to attend to him with both hands, one stroking and squeezing at the base and one rubbing over the head, smearing precome and lube everywhere. 

“You have lovely hands, dear,” Obi-Wan said, his voice a bit strained from the effort of not fucking up into those hands. “But I can’t wait any longer to be inside of you. Are you ready for that?”

Anakin sucked in a breath and nodded vigorously, pumping him one last time for good measure. 

Obi-Wan shifted down a little on the bed so that Anakin was positioned right above his cock. 

“So, do I just…?”

Obi-Wan nodded, measuring each breath, trying to tamp down the urgency of his desire. “Just take me in your hand to get me in place and then sit down. Slowly.”

“Okay.” Anakin’s brow furrowed as he reached down and guided Obi-Wan’s cock to press between his cheeks. “Like this?”

A hiss escaped from between Obi-Wan’s teeth. Anakin’s body felt so good against his cock already, so warm and perfect, and they hadn’t even started. He pushed it aside, needing to focus on Anakin, on making this pleasurable for him.

“Yes, sweetheart, just like that.” His voice came out rough. “Take your time.” 

Anakin smiled down at him. “I’m ready now.” And then slowly, torturously slowly, he began to sink down. 

The sound that escaped Obi-Wan’s lips was animalistic, unrecognizable. He thought his eyes must have rolled back in his head, because in that first moment all his senses could register was how _incredible_ it felt to be enveloped in Anakin’s slick heat. Then he wrenched his attention back. He didn’t want to miss a second of this, of how his ranger looked as he took a cock into his body for the first time.

Anakin’s head was tilted back, his mouth open in a soundless _O,_ face flushed and sheened with sweat and eyes shut tight as he adjusted to the press of Obi-Wan’s cock inside him. He took it exquisitely, inch by inch, and it took every ounce of self control Obi-Wan had to keep his hips pressed to the mattress as Anakin finally took the full length.

“I’m inside you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmured almost incredulously. “You’re taking my cock. How does that feel?” He reached up and tugged gently on Anakin’s hair, making him look down. Anakin’s eyes blinked open, and they were hazed with lust. 

“Good,” he said. “...a lot, again.” Anakin squirmed a bit, inadvertently seating himself somehow _deeper_ on his cock. Obi-Wan had to bite down on another feral groan.

“You feel full?” 

“Mmm-hmm.” 

“You like that, don’t you? You like feeling how deep I am inside you?” Obi-Wan stroked Anakin’s stomach again, as if he could feel the hardness of his cock through Anakin’s flesh. “You take me so perfectly, just like I knew you would.”

Anakin started to move, rising back up off his cock just a few inches before lowering himself back down. His powerful thighs flexed and contracted with the controlled, tight movement. “Is that right?”

“Yes, that’s it. You can pull off a little further next time.”

Anakin heeded his advice, squeezing Obi-Wan’s shoulders as he lifted his hips again, further this time, and sank back down all the way to the base, contracting his inner muscles as he went and sheathing Obi-Wan’s cock in tight, hot pressure. 

“Oh—” Anakin jumped a little once he was fully seated again, letting out a little gasp. “Wow.”

“You’re doing so well, Anakin. Do you like riding my cock?”

“Yes, yeah! Let me just—” Anakin bit down on his lip as he concentrated on establishing a smooth, steady rhythm, learning how to control the rise and fall of his hips much faster than Obi-Wan had expected him to. He proved to be a natural, figuring out just how hard to rock to draw out their pleasure without jostling them too much.

Obi-Wan watched where his cock disappeared into Anakin’s body as he moved, He couldn’t help but be affected, couldn’t help but want to fuck up into Anakin’s enticingly wet heat, loosened by his fingers but still so _tight._

“Fuck, I _love_ this.”

“Good, because I love to have you on my cock,” Obi-Wan crooned, meaning every word. “You feel so good around me, sweetheart. There’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be than here, watching you ride my cock so beautifully.”

“Wanted this for so long,” Anakin confessed.

“How long, dear?”

His jaw worked, embarrassed. “Since— since I saw you on the trail.”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “You hardly showed it.”

“Yeah, well, you were an irresponsible hiker. And injured.”

“Mmm. Both are still true.”

“Yes, but you’re…” Anakin ducked his head, demure even as he bounced naked on his cock. “Then I found out you were nice.”

“Oh? I’m nice? Is that why you wanted my cock?” Obi-Wan canted his hips up to meet Anakin as he seated himself down again, just once, just to hear his surprised, satisfied hum.

“And… and other things.”

“Like what?”

“Like— the way you look. And. Um.” Anakin’s next sentence came out in a rush. “I really like your voice.” 

“I see,” Obi-Wan mused. It took effort to keep his voice casual with Anakin fucking himself so thoroughly on his cock. “So that’s why you’ve been behaving this way? Teasing me?” 

“T-teasing? I didn’t—” 

“Don’t play coy with me.” Obi-Wan reached up and caressed Anakin’s cheek affectionately. “You wanted me to wake up to the sight of you chopping firewood outside, didn’t you? You were trying to show off for me.”

“Wh— I—” Anakin’s sputtering was answer enough.

“No need to be embarrassed, darling.” Obi-Wan ran a hand up Anakin’s chest, sweeping over a well-defined pectoral and skittering his fingers over the densely knitted muscles of his ribcage. “You were gorgeous. All that powerful muscle on display for me.”

Anakin’s blush deepened, all the way down to his chest, and Obi-Wan couldn’t resist saying more.

“I think that’s why you kept wearing those tight t-shirts as well. Is that true? Did you want me to notice you? Parading around the cabin in a _wet t-shirt?_ ”

“I—” 

“Not that I didn’t enjoy it, but you needn’t have bothered.” He took hold of Anakin’s hips, gripping down hard on golden skin. “I wanted you from the very beginning. If I hadn’t been injured, I would have pinned you down and fucked you the moment we got in the door yesterday.” 

“Oh fuck,” Anakin moaned, an octave higher than normal.

“Would you have liked that?”

“Ye-e-e-es…!” Anakin’s voice wobbled in time with his movements.

“But if I hadn’t been injured in the first place, I wouldn’t have you on my cock right now, would I?” Obi-Wan reflected out loud, absorbing every detail of Anakin bouncing on top of him as he did so. “And I very much enjoy having you on my cock, Anakin.”

Anakin’s lips parted as he concentrated on picking up his rhythm, pulling nearly all the way off Obi-Wan’s cock before sinking right back down again in a way that felt so heady, so divine—he’d missed this, had missed _sex,_ and yet every moment with Anakin in his lap felt like a wholly new experience, some secret pleasure they’d discovered together. 

Anakin’s gaze flitted up to the ceiling, giving Obi-Wan an uninterrupted view of his throat, the golden curls falling back on the broad, muscled shoulders of this beautiful man on his cock.

“Fu-u-uck, this feels _so good,”_ Anakin whined, soaking in the pleasure he was milking from Obi-Wan’s cock.

“There’s so many ways I want to make you feel good, Anakin.” Obi-Wan caressed his hips slowly, trying to commit the sensation of his skin under his palms to memory. “I want to fuck you into the bed with your legs wrapped tight around my waist. I want to see you on your hands and knees for me while I fuck into you from behind. I want to hear you cry my name while I make you come without ever having touched your cock.”

“Oh God,” Anakin moaned weakly, eyes sliding shut as he fucked himself harder. “Yes, yes, I want that, I want all of it.”

“Mmm, I’m sure you do,” Obi-Wan murmured, ghosting fingers over skin until they were nearly brushing Anakin’s cock, fully hard again as it bobbed with every rapid shift of his hips. “Maybe you’d even enjoy being restrained while I fuck you?”

Anakin’s hips stuttered for a moment, his eyes going owlish. Obi-Wan saw naked intrigue in their depths.

“Would you like that? Your hands tied above your head, or perhaps behind your back? All you’d need to do, all you’d be able to do, is take my cock, something you do so,” —he brought his hands around to cup Anakin’s ass, squeezing in preparation— “so well.” Obi-Wan punctuated the sentiment with a swift buck of his hips off the bed. 

_“Nnngg_ — _!”_ Anakin keened. A hand flew up and landed back on the windowpane. _“Yes, yes, yes!”_

He fucked into Anakin with short, hard thrusts, guiding Anakin with his hands to further impale him down onto his cock. He tried to minimize how much he jostled his foot with the movements, but the little twinges of pain were more than worth it for the shocked pleasure on Anakin’s face. There was nothing sweeter than the way Anakin arched his back, his hand clawing at the glass and Obi-Wan’s shoulder, overwhelmed and _eager_ to be at his mercy.

“Obi-Wan…” Anakin moaned.

“Yes, dear?”

“I’m…” His ranger’s mouth opened and shut soundlessly. He was growing quite incoherent.

“Do you like me fucking up into you?” Obi-Wan drove his cock in even deeper.

 _“Ah_ — yes!”

What had he done in a past life to earn such a lovely creature in his lap now? His skin glistened with sweat, pooling sweetly in the hollows of his collarbone and the defined groove of his sternum. Curls clung to his damp temples, even as he tossed his head back and gasped on a particularly hard thrust. Anakin’s cock was _weeping_ precome, thick droplets dribbling down the shaft. He looked so hard, so deeply flushed that Obi-Wan thought his ranger might come at any moment.

“I’d like to see you touch yourself. Would you do that for me?”

Anakin nodded, panting, taking a shaky hand off the glass and bringing it to his cock.

“Ah ah, not there,” Obi-Wan chided softly, snapping his hips up so hard that Anakin’s hand was knocked out of its loose grasp on his cock. “Play with your chest for me. I’d like to watch you tease those lovely buds until they’re red as roses.” 

Anakin gaped. “You mean my—”

“Yes, my darling.” Obi-Wan slowed his hips so he could run a hand up Anakin’s body. He lightly brushed a thumb over one pebbled nipple, earning a hitched gasp. 

Anakin pushed out his chest, muscles flexing in his abdomen as he did so, and nudged Obi-Wan hand out of the way to replace it with his own. At the same time, his other hand rose from Obi-Wan’s shoulder to tease the other nipple. Obi-Wan’s eyes darkened at the sight of Anakin’s circling fingers and he began to fuck into him harder again, each thrust forcing another high-pitched whimper from Anakin’s throat.

Anakin tweaked his nipples more intentionally, little twists and pinches between forefinger and thumb, coaxing out even more lovely sounds from his throat. His ranger was so _sensitive._

He’d already seen Anakin come, but he fiercely wanted to see it again, wanted to see Anakin fall apart on his cock. With one hand held tight on Anakin’s hip, he grabbed his ranger’s cock and began to stroke him. He slid his thumb over the wet, dribbling slit, impressed with how much precome Anakin could produce even after such an intense orgasm. _The benefits of being young and so very eager._

“Do you think you can come for me again, darling? You look so pretty when you come.”

Anakin whined high in his throat and nodded, still dutifully teasing his nipples, trying in vain to keep his composure. That certainly wouldn’t last long.

Obi-Wan pumped his cock firmly and flicked his wrist at the head, squeezing. Anakin let out a strangled moan. He was so close, Obi-Wan could feel it in the tense muscles of his thighs. So overstimulated with so many different points of pleasure on his body.

Anakin’s breath was coming in heavy pants. He started to lose focus, his movements getting sloppy, a hand dropping from his chest. “Oh God, Obi-Wan, I’m gonna—”

Obi-Wan squeezed his cock encouragingly. “Go ahead, sweetheart. Come for me.”

Anakin’s thighs clamped like a vice around him, Obi-Wan’s only warning before Anakin cried out as he came. His cock pulsed hard in Obi-Wan’s fist, his come spilling out in short, rapid spurts, hot as it splattered onto Obi-Wan’s hand. 

Obi-Wan stroked him through his orgasm, gently rocking his hips up into him. He groaned when Anakin’s walls suddenly tightened around his cock and he nearly came right then.

As soon as the last spurt of come had left his body, Anakin bent forward, sitting down fully on his cock and staying there. He sucked in shuddering breaths, that mess of golden curls hanging in his face. 

“Shh, just breathe.” Obi-Wan stilled his hips, giving Anakin this time to recover. He released his cock and stroked his clean hand down Anakin’s sweaty back, tracing the groove of his spine.

When Anakin finally lifted his head to look at him, his eyes were glazed, his cheeks flushed red. But a wide grin stretched his lips. “I didn’t ask you to stop.”

Obi-Wan smirked.

Even loose-limbed and still trembling from his orgasm, Anakin took his cock beautifully, finding the energy to match his upward thrusts as Obi-Wan sought his own release. It wouldn’t take much, not when Anakin looked so gorgeously wrecked, not when his tight heat was clenching and fluttering around his cock so perfectly.

“I would like to write into your flesh, Anakin,” he said, low and rough in his throat. “Can I do that, sweetheart? Can I come inside of you?”

“Please, Obi-Wan.” Anakin sounded so overwhelmed, so fucked out. Obi-Wan reached up to touch his face and Anakin caught his hand, pressing it against his lips. “I want you to feel— wanna make you feel good...” Unprompted, Anakin opened his mouth and, licking out with his tongue, took two of Obi-Wan’s fingers inside. He sucked, his tongue a hot, slick pressure laving up their length.

 _“F-fuck, Anakin!”_ Obi-Wan’s hips stuttered upwards, the strength of his orgasm taking him by surprise as he spilled his come deep into Anakin’s body. Anakin moaned and sucked on his fingers all the way through it, loving it, loving everything Obi-Wan was giving him, riding him through the aftershocks, until Obi-Wan’s legs were shaking against the bed. He could barely remember the last time he’d come this hard, felt this blissfully _good_.

Finally, his limbs went slack, fingers sliding from Anakin’s mouth with a wet _pop._ The soft, ragged sounds of their breath filled the air between them. 

“Oh, my God,” Anakin breathed, an awed smile playing on his lips. “That was... wow.” 

Obi-Wan stretched, wincing as his back cracked. “Wow, indeed. Come here?” He opened his arms.

Needing no further invitation, Anakin slumped down onto his chest, both of them inhaling sharply as Obi-Wan’s softening cock slipped out. Anakin’s come was smeared between their bodies, but neither of them seemed to mind. Obi-Wan brought his arms up around Anakin, reveling in the feeling of all that warm, naked skin against his own.

“How are you feeling?”

“So good.” Anakin sounded lazy, relaxed. He wiggled around a bit, his nose tickling the sensitive skin of Obi-Wan’s throat. “Also tired. A little sore.”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “Hopefully you don’t have any difficult patrol routes tomorrow.”

The thought of tomorrow sobered him quickly. He felt Anakin tense as well. He tried to soothe him with a kiss to the crown of his head, and Anakin relaxed, snuggling down into his chest and breathing out a contented sigh.

They laid there for a few minutes, nothing but the occasional distant bird call to interrupt the easy silence. But as much as he enjoyed having Anakin sprawled out on top of him, the reality was they were quite sticky. He could feel the itch of lube and come drying on his cock, his stomach, even more dripping down between Anakin’s thighs. He couldn’t help but think about how nice a dip in a cool mountain spring would feel right now.

He’d settle for second best.

“I think it’s time we shower.”

Anakin lifted his head. “I’m not going to let you hurt yourself trying to stand on one foot in the shower.” 

“I meant, perhaps we should shower _together,”_ Obi-Wan said pointedly. Anakin’s eyes went wide with understanding. “Carefully. Only if you’d be interested in that, of course. Otherwise I’ll just sponge off.”

“No, yeah, let’s do the shower.”

Anakin took another moment to rest before climbing off of him. He got the water running and pulled out clean towels for them before he came back to help Obi-Wan limp to the bathroom. The pills had helped with reducing the worst of the throbbing, but it was still intensely painful to step down fully. He wondered if perhaps he had fractured something in his foot.

He managed to distract Anakin from fussing with the temperature dials through the open shower door by sucking a kiss into his shoulder. He braced one hand on the wall while the other roamed Anakin’s back, working down hard planes and gentle curves until he could give his ass a light swat.

“Hey!” Anakin twisted around and pouted at him, so Obi-Wan stroked the afflicted flesh until his expression melted back into a blissed out smile.

“Maybe some other time,” Obi-Wan said under his breath, and then sighed. “Come on. We wait any longer and we’ll have to _scrape_ this come off.” 

Anakin laughed easily. “Fine, let’s get you in there, old man.” 

“Not old,” he protested, but let Anakin take his arm to help him past the door anyway.

He startled at the sight of a dark spot on the wall of the shower.

“There’s a spider.”

“What?” Anakin followed his line of sight. “Oh. Yeah, sometimes spiders get in here. They love the humidity.”

“Well, I’m not taking a shower with a giant spider watching me.”

“She’s not that big,” Anakin laughed. “Okay, just gimme a minute.”

Obi-Wan leaned back against the counter, far away from the shower door, as Anakin guided the spider into his palm. He cupped both of his hands around it as he left the bathroom. 

A minute later, Anakin reappeared, closing the door behind him.

“Charlotte’s outside now.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t believe his ranger had made _friends_ with the spider in the time it took to take it out to the grass. Actually, he could. This was Anakin, after all.

“I’m sure she’ll be much happier out there.”

Anakin helped him into the shower for a second time. Obi-Wan stood with his left foot suspended above the tile floor, hands braced on Anakin’s shoulders to support himself. Anakin moved with him, allowing them both to get under the spray for a moment. The hot water felt wonderful, finally rinsing away the rain and sweat that still clung to his skin from yesterday’s disastrous hike.

Obi-Wan took initiative by grabbing one of the bottles and squeezing out a coin of shampoo. He lathered Anakin’s hair with one hand while the other remained braced on his shoulder, using his thumb to gently massage circles into the skin. 

Contentment washed over him as he watched Anakin’s face, his peaceful expression as he leaned his head back into the water with his eyes closed for Obi-Wan to rinse the shampoo out. As he pushed the last soapy lock off of Anakin’s forehead, his thumb brushed the long scar that ran down the side of his face.

Obi-Wan traced the length of it deliberately. “Is there a story behind this? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

Anakin’s eyes blinked open, and his expression grew strangely sheepish. “Uh, not really. It was my first year in the service, I was out on patrol, and—” he mumbled something under his breath. 

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan smirked. “I didn’t quite catch that.” 

“I said I tripped and cut my face on a rock, okay?!” Anakin crossed his arms, looking so adorably grumpy that Obi-Wan felt an overwhelming urge to kiss the expression off his face. 

“Oh really?” he asked gleefully, “You tripped, did you? Were _you_ wearing boots?” 

“Yes, but—” 

“So you admit that it can happen to anyone, regardless of footwear.” 

“I _will_ leave you to slip and fall in this shower, old man.” Anakin was trying to sound stern, but he couldn’t quite suppress the laughter bubbling up in his voice. 

Now it was Obi-Wan’s turn to pout. “You wouldn’t.” 

“No,” Anakin shook his head at him, beaming a wide, brilliant smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “No, I wouldn’t.” 

Obi-Wan sudsed up Anakin’s body the best he could, hardly willing to pass up the chance to glide his hands over Anakin’s slick skin, his toned chest and arms, but he had to relinquish some of the work to Anakin given his current predicament.

After that, it was Anakin’s turn to wash him. He shampooed Obi-Wan’s hair, the rough pads of his fingers exceptionally soothing against his scalp. Then Obi-Wan turned around so Anakin could wash his back.

Anakin inhaled sharply through his teeth and ghosted a hand down Obi-Wan’s back. 

“Oh no!” He sounded impossibly distressed. “I didn’t know...” 

_Ah, yes._ Obi-Wan realized that Anakin hadn’t gotten a good look at most of the bruising from his fall yet. Not that he had any idea how it looked, either— only how it felt, which was rather unpleasant, to say the least.

“Is it terribly gruesome?” he asked, keeping his tone light as Anakin began to soap his back very gently.

“It looks fine, I’m just worried about you,” Anakin fretted. “I didn’t hurt you, did I? When we—” 

“Not any more than I was already, sweetheart,” said Obi-Wan reassuringly. “And even if you had, the experience would have been more than worth it.” 

Anakin finished with his back and turned him around again, shaking his head. “You need to be more careful. You shouldn’t let yourself get hurt, especially not during...” 

“It’s just a little pain,” Obi-Wan shrugged, and then shot Anakin a sly smile. “Some people even find that sort of thing enhances the experience.” 

“I knew that,” Anakin muttered, staring at a point somewhere past Obi-Wan’s head. The tips of his ears were bright red.

Obi-Wan decided he’d tormented the poor thing enough, so he fell silent, allowing himself to be washed, enjoying the sensation of tender hands on his body. Anakin bent down to run soap over his legs, to take his cock in hand and rinse away the remnants of lube and come. 

Obi-Wan tugged him back up and into a kiss, tasting the faintest hint of soap on his lips, but he hardly minded. Not when Anakin’s chest was warm and wet against his own. Not when his soft, spent cock somehow managed to give an interested twitch against his hip.

“You’re eager,” Obi-Wan smiled against his lips.

“I can’t help it,” Anakin mumbled back, pulling away and not looking the slightest bit remorseful. “I’ve never showered with anyone before. ...I like it.”

As much as Obi-Wan would have loved to fuck Anakin under the spray of hot water, now was certainly not the time. They finished rinsing off before getting out of the shower, toweling dry in front of the foggy mirror. 

Anakin acquired clean clothes for them to change into, sweatpants with another flannel for Obi-Wan and, predictably, another white t-shirt for Anakin. He helped Obi-Wan around the apartment casually, the tension of the past day melting away into easy familiarity at their contact.

Anakin seared filets of chicken in a skillet while Obi-Wan chopped vegetables at the table, something both pleasantly and painfully familiar about the act, about watching Anakin at the stove. Anakin didn’t have to turn on the overhead light; the evening sun poured into the kitchen, casting them in a golden glow. 

This time, when Anakin tentatively asked him about his job over dinner, Obi-Wan allowed himself to open up, telling Anakin about his students, his classes, even slipping in a few anecdotes about colleagues that sent Anakin into fits of laughter. Although Obi-Wan’s work life was no doubt quite alien to Anakin’s interests, he listened attentively, chin propped on his hand as he ate.

Again, he was shooed away while Anakin cleaned up, so Obi-Wan settled onto the bed to sit and read one of his books. Anakin finished the dishes and then lit another fire, chasing away the chill that encroached as night fell over the cabin. They enjoyed the companionable silence, Anakin sitting cross legged by the fireplace, whittling again. Obi-Wan couldn’t make out the details of the piece from this far away, but he thought surely it must be almost finished by now. 

At some point, Anakin must have gotten too warm, because he paused his work to pull off his shirt. Obi-Wan couldn’t resist watching him over the top of his reading glasses, admiring the way the firelight dramatically shadowed every plane of his body and set his golden skin aglow. He was utterly unselfconscious, as though he had no idea he was being observed. 

Obi-Wan continued to study Anakin as he picked up his carving again and began to scrape at it with the knife. Watching the careful way Anakin turned the wood in his hands, the precision with which he made each cut, it seemed impossible that the knife had ever suggested threat or violence. Anakin wielded it with the same thoughtfulness, the same delicacy, with which he had coaxed the spider into his hands, or held the photo of his mother. With which he had cupped Obi-Wan’s face and stroked his skin. 

Obi-Wan’s inward breath stopped halfway, as if by some sudden shock. It was as though the very same knife had been slipped between his ribs. What else could explain this pain that now lanced through him, near unbearable, but at the same time more acute, more _real_ than anything he could remember? He closed his eyes against the feeling, and the firelight imprinted itself in dancing gold on the black. 

He opened them, and it felt like waking up. 

A notebook lay on the bedside table. His notebook, that Anakin had given him. Obi-Wan picked it up, took up his pen, and began to write.

A little while later, Anakin got up and put away his carving. Obi-Wan gently closed the notebook and set it aside, finished with it for now. Anakin didn’t seem to notice, dancing eyes focused on his face as he climbed onto the bed next to him. Obi-Wan huffed out a small chuckle as Anakin reached up and carefully removed his reading glasses, setting them aside before leaning in for a quick, clumsy kiss. He caught Anakin’s face in his hands and pulled him back in for a longer one, until he’d had his fill.

“Hello there,” he murmured. 

“Hi.” Anakin pulled back and smiled softly at him. “It’s getting pretty late. I came over to see if you wanted to go to bed soon.” 

“Not to kiss me?” 

Anakin’s nose scrunched up cutely. “I can want two things.” 

“Of course you can.” Obi-Wan considered for a moment. “And yes, bed sounds nice.” 

Anakin helped him into the bathroom as he had the previous night, this time staying leaned against the doorframe as Obi-Wan brushed his teeth, something rather domestic about it. When he’d helped Obi-Wan back into bed and propped his foot up on a pillow, though, he began to beat a shy retreat to the couch. 

Obi-Wan frowned. “Where are you going?” 

“To sleep,” Anakin said, as if it were obvious. 

“Oh.” Obi-Wan felt strangely hurt. “I guess I just assumed you would want to—” He gestured at the bed next to him. 

Anakin’s eyes widened. “Yes! Yes,” he said enthusiastically. “I just thought, it’s a small bed, and with your foot... I didn’t want to impose.” 

“Impose?” The hurt melted away, and Obi-Wan had to laugh. “It’s _your_ bed, darling. Come here.” 

Anakin didn’t hesitate to join him. Before they could get too settled in, Obi-Wan shrugged off his own shirt. Though the fire was dying down now, Anakin radiated more than enough heat to keep him warm. Even more than that, he wanted to savor the feeling of Anakin’s skin against his own for as long as he possibly could. Each moment of touch seemed to erode, little by little, the barriers that he held close around his heart, even now. 

The bed may have been narrow, but Obi-Wan was more than comfortable with Anakin nestled up to his side, head pillowed against his chest. He could stay like this for hours, smelling the clean scent of Anakin’s hair, feeling the smooth skin of his back under his hand. As he drifted off, he thought he felt Anakin’s fingers stroking through his beard. He wanted to tilt his head to kiss them, but he was so tired... 

He let himself fade away, surrounded and consumed by Anakin. 

* * *

When he blinked his eyes open, Anakin was already awake.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice sleep-rough.

“Good morning.” Anakin lifted his head off his chest. He was still fighting the sleep from his voice as well, although Obi-Wan was under the impression that he’d been awake for some while based on the clarity in his eyes. 

Anakin seemed to deliberate for a moment before leaning down to kiss him. Obi-Wan smiled into it, happy to ignore the stale taste of morning in favor of savoring Anakin’s plush lips sliding against his. The kiss was soft and unhurried, more intimate because of its chasteness.

Anakin pulled back gently, face relaxed into something so peaceful that Obi-Wan felt his fingertips itching with the desire to draw him. To capture every curve and contour, every highlight and shadow of Anakin’s face, to color in the delicate pink of his lips, the deep blue of his eyes. 

Waking up next to someone, kissing them with sleep still fogging his mind, at once felt distantly familiar and unequivocally brand new. His heart ached for this serene moment, longed to have this every morning. On days with warm sunlight streaming through the windows and on gray winter dawns. Mornings after hours of love-making and mornings after petty arguments. Mornings after days spent apart and mornings after an entire day spent in each other’s arms.

How lovely it would be to stay here, in this cozy haven in the woods, with this gentle, wild soul.

Together they sat up in bed, needing to stretch themselves into some better semblance of wakefulness. Something out the window must have caught Anakin’s attention, because he was smiling into the distance. “Look.”

Obi-Wan twisted around to see what Anakin was so interested in. 

A young fawn wobbled on thin, spindly legs, their mother trailing slowly behind them. They were beautiful creatures; Obi-Wan couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen deer up close. Certainly never this close, just beyond the cabin’s landing, paused in the middle of the clearing when the fawn took a little stumble over a thick patch of grass.

“She was born in March,” Anakin said fondly. “She and her mom usually come by at least once a day.” 

“I, ah. I saw—” He felt awful bringing it up, but he couldn’t take it back now. “I saw a drawing of her in your notebook. Bambi, yes?”

“You saw that?” Anakin’s eyes widened with alarm. “Oh, those are just quick sketches, I’m not an artist—”

Obi-Wan covered Anakin’s hand with his own and interlaced their fingers. “They’re lovely sketches, Anakin. You pour your love for this park and its inhabitants into every detail on the page.”

Anakin gave a little bashful smile. “I do love it here.”

“As you should.” Obi-Wan matched his smile. “It’s quite beautiful. Although I was fortunate enough to discover that the best thing about this park is _you.”_

He expected Anakin to blush and duck his head, but instead he just laughed. “You’re only saying that because you haven’t been to Rattlesnake Summit yet. It’s incredible up there, you’ll see.” 

Obi-Wan laughed too. “I sincerely hope so, if my leg ever has the decency to heal.” 

They sat in rapt silence for a few more minutes while Bambi and her mother slowly picked their way across the clearing. As he watched, Obi-Wan noticed a smudge on the window in the shape of a large handprint. He nudged Anakin just enough to catch his attention as he brought his own hand up to cover it. He shot his ranger a smirk. 

_There_ was that blush he’d been looking for. 

They reluctantly made their way out of bed, Anakin still supporting him, although his ankle hurt a good deal less than it had yesterday. Anakin made them breakfast and they ate, talking about everything and nothing, but some of yesterday’s ease was lost. The specter of Obi-Wan’s impending departure loomed larger and larger by the minute.

“I have to go out to check the road,” Anakin said finally, his eyes mournful and almost pleading.

“Yes, I suppose you do,” Obi-Wan said, his voice tight. Was it really only a day ago that he’d been ready to hobble down the mountain alone if it meant getting back to his car? Only two days ago that he hadn’t known Anakin at all? Somehow it felt like he’d known Anakin for far longer. Like he occupied a space within Obi-Wan that he hadn't known was there until now.

Before he left, Anakin handed Obi-Wan his own clothes, long since hung dry over the shower wall. It felt strange to wear street clothes after two days in Anakin’s soft, comfortable lounge things, surrounded by his faint, woodsy scent. 

He decided to make the bed; the least he could do, really, just to pull the blanket up and fluff the pillow. He hobbled over to the couch and rearranged himself there, equal parts eager and anxious for the door to open. 

After a minute of fidgeting with the thing in his hands, he opened the drawer of the coffee table and placed it inside, closing the drawer back up.

All too soon, Anakin was back, announcing that the roads were clear with a too-bright smile. Obi-Wan could barely watch as Anakin busied himself gathering up his scattered belongings from around the cabin, packing up his backpack, slowly removing every piece of evidence that Obi-Wan had been there at all.

Obi-Wan took one last look around the cabin before they left. It looked as cozy as ever with morning sunlight streaming through the windows. There was the chair where Anakin had sat and told him a scary story, the couch where they had kissed for the first time, the bed where they had learned each others’ bodies. He marvelled at how such a small space could fill up with so many memories, in so short a time.

On the landing, he earned a surprised look when he willingly angled his body so Anakin could pick him up and carry him down the stairs. 

“I thought I’d have to fight you again,” Anakin grunted as he scooped Obi-Wan into his arms. 

Obi-Wan sniffed haughtily, trying to disguise just how much he had come to enjoy this. “Perhaps I just decided it’s best not to fight the inevitable.” 

Anakin laughed, and carried him all the way to the truck. On the way, Obi-Wan noticed the flowers in front of the cabin were finally blooming, opening up to face the morning sun.

The drive was mostly silent for a while, Anakin concentrating on the road, which was little more than a set of tire tracks. Obi-Wan watched the scenery go by. Eventually they reached a paved access road that Anakin said was for park service only.

After a few minutes, Anakin stepped on the brake, slow enough to prevent too much jostling in their seats. He shifted the gear into park and unbuckled his seatbelt with a soft _click_. “One sec.”

“Okay.” Obi-Wan watched him exit the truck, perplexed. He didn’t have a clue what Anakin was up to until he neared the side of the road. Nestled in a patch of grass there was a tiny flutter of movement—a baby bird, a pink-skinned, grotesque little thing, flapping its useless nubs. A songbird, whom Obi-Wan presumed to be the mother, darted away from the road as Anakin crouched down, but still remained hovering close by. Anakin guided the baby bird into his hand before giving it a home in the shirt pocket of his uniform.

Anakin must have spotted the nest in the tree above because he began to _climb,_ lifting himself up branch by branch. His boots dug into the bark of the trunk, supporting his climb until he could scoop the baby bird out of his pocket and place it in the tangled mess of leaves and twigs that Obi-Wan could just make out through the leaves.

While Anakin climbed down the tree, the mother flew back up to the nest, surely happy to have her baby home safe and sound.

Obi-Wan felt an overwhelming wave of affection for his ranger. His heart ached, a visceral pain in his chest, knowing their time together was rapidly coming to close. If only he could stay a little bit longer—forever, perhaps.

“Sorry about that,” Anakin said as he hopped back into the driver’s seat, buckling up and shifting the truck back into drive. 

“Nothing to apologize for. I can’t believe you spotted that tiny thing from the road.”

“Oh, well, there’s always a few nestlings every year that take a tumble. Fledgelings can get back up on their own, but nestlings need help like that. You can tell the difference between them because fledgelings have all of their downy feathers, but nestlings, like that one…”

Obi-Wan savored every moment of listening to Anakin carry on. He hardly cared about the topic, not when Anakin’s softly lilting voice sounded so pleasant and perfect to his ears. Anakin somehow managed to wind up on a rant about invasive mosses by the time the trailhead came into view.

Anakin’s ramblings died in his throat. Silence settled heavy in the space between them as they came to the mutual realization that their time together was truly, finally at a close. Obi-Wan’s silver sedan was parked where he’d left it, windshield grimed by a dusting of yellow pollen but otherwise unmolested. 

Anakin was as irresistible as ever, but Obi-Wan couldn’t seem to fully look at his face. It felt like staring into a bright light. It felt as though ever since his fall, since Anakin had found him, they’d been surrounded in a delicate, pellucid bubble. The world continued its muffled passage somewhere beyond, but within, they were the only ones who mattered. When Obi-Wan opened the door and stepped out of the truck, that bubble would burst, leaving nothing but a shimmer in the air to attest that it had ever existed at all. 

He would still be him, and Anakin would still be Anakin, but who would they be against the backdrop of their real lives? He’d practically fallen into Anakin’s lap, and Anakin had wanted him, but would he still feel the same with the world intruding? Obi-Wan was a poet who could barely write, a lover who’d never been enough for the woman he’d loved. Nothing but a sad, lonely old man.

He knew that Anakin had enjoyed their time together. That much, he could congratulate himself on. As long as he’d made Anakin feel good, made Anakin happy, then did it really matter if he wanted more? He breathed in, shuddering, trying to imprint each and every memory onto the surface of his heart. No matter what was to come, this brief interlude was precious. Would always be precious, to him. 

The truck rattled to a halt in the gravel parking lot.

“Well,” Anakin said glumly. “Here we are.” 

“Indeed.” 

They both stared out of the windshield for a while. The sun was out, casting dappled patterns of golden light on the ground in front of them. Neither seemed willing to initiate this final farewell. 

“Um, Obi-W—”

“Anakin, I—” 

They laughed together, and the tension of uncertainty receded to hover just a few more inches away. It was enough. 

“You go on,” said Obi-Wan. Anakin stared at him for a second. “Please.” 

“Alright.” Anakin took a deep breath, bracing his hands on the steering wheel. “I just wanted to say, um— okay.” 

He reached across Obi-Wan to open the glove compartment and pulled out a pen and an old receipt from the clutter inside. Anakin spread the receipt out on the dashboard and scribbled something in his familiar scrawl. A phone number. 

“I have a cell phone but there isn’t great reception up at the cabin, obviously, why am I telling you, you know that...” Anakin set down the pen and rubbed the back of his neck. “Anyway. The cabin has a landline, for work stuff mostly. This is the number.” He pressed the paper into Obi-Wan’s hand. “In case, y’know, you ever get lost on the trail again and need someone to come pick you up.” 

The weight on Obi-Wan’s chest seemed to lift slightly, and he breathed just a little less shallowly as he slipped the paper into his pocket.

“Thank you, Anakin. Of course I would call you. As long as you promised not to berate me for my choice of footwear,” he teased. His heart wasn’t in it, but he wanted to see Anakin smile one more time. 

Anakin’s lips did twitch upward, though his eyes stayed fixed on his lap. “Yeah, I’ve pretty much accepted that you’re not going to listen to me at this point.” 

They lapsed into silence again. The analog clock on the dash—how old _was_ Anakin’s truck, anyway?—read 10:43 AM. Obi-Wan had to make the forty-five minute drive back to the city and his apartment, shower and change clothes, and get to campus in time to prepare for his 1 PM class. If he left now, he’d be able to make it, but he couldn’t drag this out much longer. It was time to rip off the bandage. He undid his seatbelt and reached for the door handle. 

“Wait!” 

Anakin’s hand caught his shoulder and he paused. Before Obi-Wan could ask what he was waiting for, Anakin had unbuckled his own seatbelt and was halfway around the hood of the truck. He stopped outside the passenger side door and swung it open, holding out his hand. 

“Let me help you.” 

Obi-Wan took Anakin’s hand. It was rough, and warm, and held his own in a bruisingly strong grip. _He must be worried I’m going to fall yet again._

With Anakin’s help, he didn’t, instead settling with his arm around Anakin’s shoulder one last time. Anakin used his free hand to grab Obi-Wan’s backpack and slam the door, the sound loud enough in the quiet to make him jump. 

They made their slow way over to Obi-Wan’s car. He wanted every step to last a lifetime, wanted to feel Anakin pressed up against him like this always. All too soon, they were there, and Anakin was holding out his bag while he fumbled inside for his keys.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to drive?” he fretted. 

“It’s my left foot.” Obi-Wan waved a dismissive hand. “I’ll be fine.” 

He finally found his keys, began his turn to unlock the door, and froze. He couldn’t leave things like this, so utterly unspoken.

“Anakin,” he said softly. 

“Yeah?” 

“Thank you. For helping me.” He stared down at Anakin’s muddy boots. “And for everything else. I mean it.” 

“Obi-Wan...” Anakin’s fingers were on his jaw, lifting his chin. Then Anakin stepped into his space and kissed him, a hard and fast and clumsy press that was almost painful, full of all the things that neither of them were willing to say. Obi-Wan kissed him back, holding him, gripping his shoulders hard, as if leaving marks with his fingers would stop this moment from ever ending.

But, at last, it had to. Anakin pulled back, and his blue eyes glistened in the morning sunlight. His hand stroked Obi-Wan’s face for a small moment, then fell away. 

“Be safe.” 

Obi-Wan sniffed, blinking rapidly. “I will.” 

He opened the door of his car and climbed in. Before he shut it, he looked back up at his ranger. 

“Goodbye, Anakin. And sincerely, thank you.” 

Anakin sniffled too. “Bye, Obi-Wan.” 

Obi-Wan swung the door shut. His chest hurt. Anakin looked so miserable, standing a few feet away, arms crossed protectively over his chest. Watching Obi-Wan leave. 

An absurd thought occurred to him. He rolled down the window and stuck his head out. “You know, I never got your last name.”

Anakin’s eyes widened, and he rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish look on his face. “Oh, yeah. It’s Skywalker.”

Obi-Wan huffed out a soft, almost disbelieving laugh, for a brief moment feeling as though he were dreaming. “Of course. A very fitting name for a man who lives among the clouds, high up on the mountain.” He took a deep breath. He could do this. He could let himself have this. 

“I do sincerely hope I’ll get to see you again sometime, Anakin Skywalker.” 

Anakin ducked his head and smiled. “I hope so, too.” 

Obi-Wan concentrated harder on the road than he ever had in his life as he drove home. He forced his mind blank. Anything to avoid thinking about Anakin’s sad little smile in the rearview mirror as he pulled away. 

He hoped with all his heart that it wouldn’t be the last time he saw that face. 

Getting into his apartment with his injured leg was difficult, but he managed somehow. He reminded himself to see about a doctor’s appointment tomorrow, so they could set him up with a boot or crutch or something. He’d grown rather used to having Anakin around to help him. 

Obi-Wan expected to breathe a sigh of relief when he arrived home, as he usually did. But this time, unlocking the door and stepping into his apartment felt strange. He’d moved here after... after Satine. Decorating had somehow never seemed much of a priority, and every surface was neat, free of unnecessary clutter. 

Empty. 

He set down his backpack by the door and glanced at the clock. The drive had gone faster than he’d expected; he had more than enough time to shower and change and still make it to his class. The receipt with Anakin’s number was still in his pocket; he considered it for a moment before sticking it to the fridge with a magnet he’d gotten at some conference. Then he hobbled to the bathroom, grateful to rid himself of his dirty clothes, his muddy sandals. 

The water poured over his shoulders with enough pressure to make the bruises twinge as he braced himself against the wall. He remembered Anakin’s concerned fingers on his back, Anakin’s soap-slicked lips on his own, and turned his face into the spray. 

Obi-Wan neatened himself, trimmed the edges of his beard, slipped on an oxford and crisp slacks. He looked and felt like himself again. No one would ever be able to tell that he’d nearly fallen off a cliff and spent the weekend in a cabin in the forest. If not for the pain still throbbing in his ankle, he himself might wonder if it had been real. 

It wasn’t even half past noon yet. He had time to unpack his things. 

Sitting down at the kitchen table, he unzipped his backpack and pulled out his books, the brown moleskine. He was about to limp over to the bookcase when he noticed, at the bottom of his bag, an object he didn’t remember packing. It appeared to be a rolled-up white t-shirt. 

Obi-Wan pulled it out. It was far heavier than he expected it to be. On impulse, he brought it to his nose. 

As soon as he inhaled, he was hit with a dozen sense-memories at once. Anakin, his arm around Obi-Wan’s waist, supporting him, helping him through the woods. Anakin, scooping him up and carrying him to the couch. Anakin leaning in to hug him, to kiss him, Anakin gasping and writhing in pleasure on top of him, Anakin waking up in his arms, Anakin, _Anakin._

Obi-Wan swallowed past the lump in his throat, lowered the package to the table, and carefully began to unroll it. When the contents were revealed, he couldn’t hold back the soft exclamation that escaped him. 

“Oh, _Anakin...”_

It was the carving that his ranger had been working on all along, finally finished. He half-gasped, half-laughed when he saw what it depicted— a wolf, lying down as if at rest, its head pillowed on its front paws. Rather than being shut in sleep, its eyes were open, staring up at him plaintively. The workmanship was beautiful, unmarred and perfect, except for one detail. A long scar, stretching down the wolf’s face directly to the outside of its right eye. 

He stroked the wolf’s muzzle carefully with one finger, set it back down on the table, and stared at it for a long moment. Then he looked over his shoulder, to the fridge and the paper with Anakin’s number. 

Obi-Wan picked up his phone. Before he could even unlock it, it began to ring in his hand. 

He smiled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for a short but sweet epilogue!
> 
> Say hi to us ([luckee](https://luckee.tumblr.com/) and [septemberist](https://theseptemberist.tumblr.com/)) on tumblr.


	3. epilogue

Anakin stood rooted to the ground while the silver sedan pulled out of the lot. He held himself, squeezing around his ribcage tight enough that it started to hurt.

If he stayed here, muddy boots planted in the gravel, maybe Obi-Wan would return.

_ He wouldn’t. _

For a brief moment, he wondered if he was fast enough to outrun Obi-Wan’s car. If he really sprinted, maybe he could catch up to Obi-Wan. Maybe he could...

_ No.  _ He had to get back up the mountain. He had patrols to do.

Nature didn’t take breaks.

He climbed back into his pickup. Automatically, his eyes strayed over to the passenger seat. It was empty, like it always was. He was always alone on his drives around the park, humming along to songs on the radio—or, more often, listening to static—and scanning the woods for anything that might become a problem.

He liked being alone. It had always been so much easier, not having to worry about other people’s stupidity, their entitlement. Their pity. 

He was always alone and he liked being alone but—

There was no one to carry up the stairs this time. No more warm, comforting weight in his arms. He’d felt a little nervous, doing it the first time, picking an ornery stranger up bridal-style and bringing him into his home, his sanctuary— but he’d  _ wanted  _ to pick him up. Wanted to get a better whiff of that cologne he’d noticed as they limped along the trail. It was a sophisticated scent, refined. Everything he wasn’t, but this stranger—Obi-Wan—was. This  _ idiotic  _ stranger who wore Birkenstocks on a hike up the most advanced trail in the entire state…

This idiotic stranger, with the melodic, accented voice, clear blue-gray eyes, auburn hair and a beard that looked—that  _ felt,  _ he knew that now, had committed it to memory—so soft. Anakin imagined that he looked rather intimidating in fancy city clothes, in whatever he wore while lecturing to his students. Intimidating because he was  _ beautiful,  _ an older man, something dominant about the set of his shoulders and the sharpness in his eyes that, even injured, rain-soaked, and miserable, Anakin had noticed, had sent shivers down his spine in a way that made him  _ want. _

He ascended the steps slowly, had to pause for a moment, in front of the red door that he  _ really  _ needed to repaint, before opening it. 

When he finally did, he was met with an empty cabin.

As always.

But it’d never felt this empty, not now that he knew what it felt like to walk in and be greeted by Obi-Wan, his kind smile, his appreciative gaze, his warm voice, the voice that liked to tease him but also said things that made him feel good, things that made him feel  _ wanted... _ He ached, physically, all over his body, like maybe he’d been the one to fall off a cliff instead of...

Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan, the handsome, cultured man from the city that, for some reason that Anakin would always thank his stars for, had decided to venture out into nature for maybe the first time in his life. 

His poet. His  _ extremely dumb _ poet.

Who he’d— had sex with. 

Anakin still couldn’t believe it. Sex had been so far from his mind for so long, only floating through his thoughts on those very lonely nights, when he’d run out of firewood to chop, had finished putting away the dishes, and didn’t have any more soft wood to whittle. 

Those lonely nights when the fire couldn’t quite get rid of the chill that tended to seep into his cabin after dark. When even his hand felt too cold on his cock, when all he wanted was another’s warm hands on his body, stroking and soothing him. Soft murmurs to tell him everything would be okay, that he was doing well, that he was wanted, and maybe even, one day, that he was loved.

It hit him all at once.

There were no warm hands or soft murmurs waiting for him. 

Obi-Wan had left.

He may never return, probably wouldn’t ever call him, why would he, what could Anakin possibly have to offer to someone like— 

Anakin didn’t want to be alone. 

Obi-Wan had brought life to his cabin that it’d never had before. Anakin liked having someone to bicker with, someone to take care of, someone to cook with and wash with and someone to shower him with affection, someone who encouraged his passions, listened to his ramblings, who liked his sketches, who thought they were  _ good. _

He missed Obi-Wan’s voice and his beard and his reading glasses. 

His smile, his laugh, his teasing, his stories. 

His fingers. His cock.

Anakin screwed his eyes shut against the sting of tears threatening to spill forth.  _ No.  _ He couldn’t keep thinking about Obi-Wan. His poet left for the city, where he belonged, and Anakin had to let him go. He'd tucked the carving into his bag, because— well, maybe from the moment he told that dumb story, some small part of him had known he wanted to give it to Obi-Wan. So that Obi-Wan could keep him close, even when they weren't together. 

Not that he knew if Obi-Wan even  _ wanted _ to remember him.

He'd originally intended just to hide the carving and leave it at that. To let Obi-Wan tell him if he wanted more before they parted ways. But then they got to the trailhead and Obi-Wan still hadn't said anything, so he’d impulsively given him his number. Obi-Wan hadn’t given him his number back, so it was entirely up to him to decide if he ever wanted to see Anakin again.

All Anakin could do was wait.

And it was probably for the better, really, because if he had Obi-Wan’s number he’d be calling him right now. If nothing else, he’d do it just to hear his voice one more time. 

A belated wave of embarrassment rolled through him as he surveyed his tiny living space. So much  _ clutter,  _ so much stuff he should’ve cleared out ages ago. But he hated the sight of bare tables, bare walls, bare counters—he needed his cabin to feel  _ full,  _ even if it wasn’t. Even if it was just him here. 

Even if it was empty.

Now, he felt like maybe he was drowning in all the clutter. He couldn’t seem to get enough air into his lungs, his vision getting blurry the more he looked around the cabin and never once caught a flash of auburn.

Anakin waded through his thoughts, pushing back against the waves so he could get to the couch. He tried not to think about being on this couch with Obi-Wan’s beard scratching softly against his mouth while they kissed, tried not to think about Obi-Wan’s hand trailing under his shirt to touch his skin. 

He sought a familiar comfort. Seeing his mom’s face  _ hurt _ but seeing her big smile always gave him a small bit of comfort, so he opened the drawer of the coffee table in front of him.

And found… his notebook.

The one he’d given Obi-Wan.

His heart sank into his stomach. He felt sick. He felt so, so stupid— of course Obi-Wan didn’t want his gift, of course he didn’t want some cheap notebook, why had he done that, how could he ever think—

He picked it up, ready to throw it in the trash. He hated wasting things but he couldn’t keep this around, he had to get rid of it.

Before he could think, some curiosity in the back of his mind had his thumb pulling back the cover. Opening the notebook to the first page.

He inhaled sharply.

Neat, flowing writing, every inked curl and dash so vividly familiar. At the very top of the page was a note.

_ For my darling ranger. _

His eyes scanned the verses so fast he had to force himself to stop, to start over and read slowly, just as Obi-Wan had read aloud to him.

_ Trail Safety _

Pack a backpack of essentials.

Something large enough

to hold an abundance of

fickle, fleeing, flowering

emotions, struggling to stand.

_ Knife _

to whittle and wash

the unsteady edges

of our rocky humanity

into something more humane.

_ Sunscreen _

to keep the golden light

lapping at the floorboards—

sinking into his curls—

from setting you ablaze.

_ Park Map _

to trace the trails

across the plains of his chest

and still get lost—distracted

by springtime’s pleasure.

_ Food _

to try and sate,

an unquenchable hunger

for his newly touched skin

arching into your grip. 

_ Notebook _

to desperately encapsulate,

engrave, encompass

every single sound, sensation

he yielded in ecstasy. 

_ Band-Aids _

to patch up the bruises

and rib deep cuts

the word tomorrow brings

when you wish to stay.

And once you’ve packed

everything — everything

will feel that it’s missing

a touch of warmth

and deep blue eyes. 

At the end of the poem was a note.

_ I would very much like to fill up the rest of this notebook with you. If that’s something you want, I hope you'd be willing to return it to me in person. _

Under that was a phone number.

Anakin blinked tears from his eyes before they could drip down and stain the page. He breathed in deeply, gulping air into his lungs, and thought he might have caught the taste of cologne on his tongue.

He couldn’t waste another minute. Anakin climbed up onto the roof using the joint of the chimney and siding for leverage. He sprawled out where he always did when he needed to check the news or scroll through nature sites to learn about a new bug or creature or plant he’d stumbled across.

The sky was clear, vibrantly blue with the sun shining bright through the green leaves and making them glow.

With Obi-Wan’s notebook open in his lap, he dialed the number at the bottom of the page. After the first ring, a pleasant shiver went down his spine at the sound of a honey-warm, accented voice.

“Hello, dear one. I was just about to call you.”

He smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly, your authors are both poetically challenged. Happily, our brilliant friend Dee (who can be found on tumblr [here](https://xeniaraven.tumblr.com/)) was willing to step up and write Obi-Wan's poem for us! Our thanks and appreciation cannot be overstated; she so perfectly captured and brought to life the emotions we felt while writing this story. To include her work is truly an honor and we hope that you all enjoyed it as much as we did. 
> 
> We ([luckee](https://luckee.tumblr.com/) and [septemberist](https://theseptemberist.tumblr.com/)) are incredibly proud and grateful that we can share this story with all of you, and we have been so happy to hear your wonderful feedback. We are both busy writers with our own projects but, as we wrapped up work on Project Forest Twunk, we realized that we weren't quite ready to leave his world just yet. Consider this an official but vague announcement: we have not seen the last of Obi-Wan and his ranger...


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